Night saw our ship off Orfordness, and there the breeze failed us, and a thick fog, hiding the land and its lights, crept up from seaward and wrapped us round. But before it came, on Orfordness a fire burnt redly, though what it was, unless it might be some fisher's beacon, we could not tell.
The fog lifted as we drifted past the wide mouth of Stour and Orwell rivers with a little breeze, and the early daylight showed us the smoke of a fire that burnt on the higher land that shuts in the haven's mouth on its southern shores. But even as we saw it, the fog closed round us again and the wind died away, so that we lowered the sail, and the men got out the oars, and slowly, while Kenulf swung the lead line constantly, we crept on among the sand banks down the coast.
Presently the tide turned against us, and Kenulf thought well that we should drop anchor and wait for its turning again. The men gladly laid in the oars, and the anchor rattled out and held. The ship swung to her cable, and then there seemed deep silence after the even roll and creak of the great sweeps in their rowlocks. The fog was very dense, and beyond our stem head I could see nothing.
Then to break the silence came to us, over no great stretch of water as it seemed, the sound of a creaking block, the fall of a yard on deck, and a voice raised in some sharp order. Then I thought I heard an anchor plunge, and there was silence. Very ghostly it seemed to hear these familiar sounds and to see naught, and it was the more so that we might by no means judge from which side of us, or fore or aft, the noises came, for fog will confuse all things, and save a driving snowstorm, I dread nothing more at sea.
Now the men began to speak in whispers, for the silence and weirdness of the fog quieted us all. And, moreover, when the fog lifted we had seen no ship, though there must be one close to us now, and we wondered.
But Kenulf came to me presently with a scared face, and waiting till the men had gone forward to find their food, he asked me if I heard the voice that spoke.
"Aye, surely," I answered. "What of it?"
"Master," he said, "the voice was a Danish voice, as I think. And I mind me of the fires we saw."
"What then?" said I carelessly, though indeed I could see well what fear was in the old man's mind. Yet I would have him put the thing into words, being ready to look the worst in the face at any time.
"The vikings, master," he answered; "surely they were in Orwell mouth and saw us, and have given chase."
"We should have seen them also," I said.
"Not so, master, for the fog hung inland, and if a Dane lies in such a place he has ever men watching the sea--and they will sail two ship's lengths to our one."
"Supposing the ship is a viking, what should we do now?" I asked, for I knew of naught to do but bide where we were.
"Go back with tide and slip past them even now," said Kenulf, though I think he knew that this was hopeless, for if we rowed, the sound of our oars would betray us, and if not we should be on a shoal before long, whence any escape would be impossible.
"Hark!" I said in another moment, and we listened.
There was little noise beyond the lapping of the swift tide against our sides. The men forward were silent, and I had thought that I heard the distant sound of voices and oars.
It came again in the stillness; a measured beat that one could not well mistake, as of a ship's boat leisurely pulled.
Then one of our men began to sing in an undertone, and Kenulf smote his hands together in terror, for the sound would betray us, and he was going forward to stop the song.
"No matter," said I, "they know we are not far off, for I think they must have anchored when they heard us do so, as we heard them. If they seek us they will soon find us."
"They are coming nearer," said Kenulf, and I heard the oars more plainly yet.
Now the thought of calling my men to arms came over me, but I remembered how Lodbrok had told me that resistance to vikings, unless it were successful, meant surely death, but that seldom would the unresisting be harmed, even if the ship were wantonly burnt after plunder, and the crew set adrift in their boat.
Still the oars drew nearer, and I thought of the words that Lodbrok had spoken--how that shipmen would be glad of his presence--and I wished that he were indeed with me, for now I knew what he meant.
Now, too, I knew his gift of the ring to be our safety, and surely he had given it to me for this. So I grew confident, and even longed to see the sharp bow of the boat cleave the mist, if only her crew knew of our friend by name at least. Yet they might be Norse--not Danish.
But the sound of oars crossed our bows and died away again, and then a voice hailed from the ship, as I thought, and there was silence.
Kenulf and I breathed more freely then, and we too went forward and ate and drank, and afterwards spoke of the chance of slipping away when the tide turned, though I was sure that, if the ship were what we thought, she would up anchor and drift with us.
So the hours of flood tide passed, and then the ship began to swing idly as the slack came. Then with the turn of tide came little flaws of wind, and we hoisted the sail, and Kenulf hove the anchor short. Yet we heard no more sounds from the other ship.
Then all in a minute the fog thinned, lifted, and cleared away, and I saw the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever lighted on, and the most terrible.
For, not half a mile from us, lay a great viking snekr {vii}, with the sunlight full on her and flashing from the towering green and gold and crimson dragon's head that formed her stem, and from the gay line of crimson and yellow shields that hung along her rail from end to end of the long curve of her sides. Her mast was lowered, and rested, with the furled blue and white striped sail, on the stanchions and crossbars that upheld it, to leave the deck clear for swing of sword and axe; and over the curving dragon tail of the stern post floated a forked black and golden flag. And wondrously light and graceful were the lines on which she was built, so that beside her our stout cargo ship showed shapeless and heavy, as did our log canoes beside Lodbrok's boat. As soon should our kitchen turnspit dog fly the greyhound that I had given Lodbrok, as such a ship as ours from this swift viking's craft.
But her beauty was not that which drew the eyes of my men. Little they thought of wonder or pleasure in gazing on the ship herself. All her decks were crowded with scarlet-cloaked men, and the sunlight which made the ship so bright flashed also from helm and spear and mail coat from stem to stern. And at that sight every tale of viking cruelty they had heard came into their minds, and they were overcome with terror, so that I thought that several would have cast themselves into the sea, away from the terrible ship, choosing rather death by water than by the sword. But I saw some half dozen whose faces set hard with other thoughts than these, and they turned to seek their weapons from under the fore deck.
Then I spoke to them, for it was time; and I would have neither fear nor defiance shown, for I knew that we should be boarded.
"Yonder ship belongs, as I think, to the people of our guest, Lodbrok the Dane. So it seems to me that they will gladly hear news of him from us, as he is a great man in Denmark. And surely we have deserved well of his folk in every way, and we of East Anglia are at peace with the Danish host. Therefore, let us wait till they board us, and then let no man stir from his place or speak a word, that I may talk with them in peace."
Those words were listened to eagerly, and they wrought on the minds of my poor fellows as I wished. Moreover, to put our one chance of safety into form thus heartened me also, for I will not say that I feared nothing from these vikings, who might know and care naught concerning our sea-borne guest, even were they Danes.
Yet it seemed that none saw my fears, for in a little the men asked if they might take their weapons. And though it seemed hard to me and them alike to bide unarmed, I knew it was safer, and so bade them meet the Danes in all peaceful seeming.
Now we saw a boat lowered from the longship's side, and one by one armed men entered her, and she sank deeply in the water. Ten I counted, and at last one more, who, I supposed, was the leader.
So deep was she that, as she left the ship, I thought how that one sack of our grain, hove into her as she came alongside, would sink her and leave her crew to drown in our sight. But then the ship herself would close on us, and not one of us but would pay for that deed with his life.
So she came slowly over the glassy water of the slack tide, and my men watched her, saying nothing.
Soon she came alongside, and at a sign from me Kenulf threw a line which the bowman caught, and I thought that a word or two of wonder passed among her crew. They dropped to where the curve of our deck was lowest, and instantly the leader leapt on board and all but one of his men followed, axe or drawn sword in hand. As I had bidden them, not one of my men stirred save Kenulf, who made fast the line and stood watching.
The leader was a young man, of about my own age, clad in golden shining bronze scale armour and wearing a silver helm on which were short, black, curving horns; and he bore a double-headed axe, besides the sword at his side. He looked round on us--at the men standing silent, at Kenulf, and at me as I stood on the after deck resting on the tiller, and broke into a great laugh.
"Well," he cried, "are you all dumb, or fools, or wise men; or a little of all three?"
But my men answered nothing, even as I had bidden them, and I thought that my time was not yet come to speak.
"The fog has got into their throats," said a Dane; for with a great lifting of my heart I knew their tongue, and it was Lodbrok's and not Norse.
"Struck speechless with fear more like," said another.
"Ho, men," said the leader, "which is your captain?"
One of our crew pointed to me, and I came to the break of the deck saying:
"I am master of this ship."
And I spoke as a Dane, for my long company with Lodbrok had given me the very turn of his speech.
At that the viking stared at me, and one of his men said:
"When did Danes take to trading on this coast?"
"You are Saxon by all seeming," said the leader, "yet you speak like a Dane. Whence are you, and how learned you our tongue so glibly?"
"We are from Reedham in East Anglia, which is at peace with the Danish host," I said; "and I learnt the Danish speech from one who is my friend, Lodbrok the Dane, whom men call Jarl Lodbrok."
Now at that word the Danes all turned to me, and hardly one but let fall some word of wonder; and the young leader took two great steps towards me, with his face flushing and his eyes lit up with a new look.
Then he stopped, and his face changed, growing white and angry, and his teeth closed tightly as he looked at me. Then he said:
"Now if you are making a tale to save your skins, worse shall it be for you. What know you of Lodbrok?"
I held out my hand, on which the jarl's ring shone white against the sea-browned skin.
"Here is a token he gave me before I sailed, that some friend of his might know it and speak to me," I said.
The viking dropped his axe on the deck and seized my hand, gazing at the ring and the runes graven thereon.
"Lives he yet?" he said, breathless.
"Aye, Halfden Lodbroksson, your father lives and is well in our house," I answered; for now I knew that this was surely the youngest of those three sons of whom the jarl had told me so often.
Now at that word the Danes broke into a great cheer, but Halfden laid his hands on my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks, while the tears of joy ran down his face.
"Well must Lodbrok my father love you if he has told you so much that you know me by name," he cried; "and well does he trust you since he has given you his ring. Tell me more and ever more of him."
Then sudden as before his mood changed, and he let me go and climbed on the rail with his arm round a backstay, and taking off his helm he lifted up a mighty shout to his ship:
"Found is Jarl Lodbrok, ahoy!"
And with uplifted weapons his men repeated the shout, so that it seemed as though the loved name was heard across the still water, for the men on board the ship cheered in answer.
Now nothing would serve Halfden but that I must go with him on board his own ship, there to tell him all I might; and he laughed gaily, saying that he had looked indeed for a rich booty, but had gained that which was more worth to him.
Then I told Kenulf that we would bide at anchor till we knew what should be done, thinking it likely that Halfden would wish us to pilot him back to Reedham.
"We shall lose our tide," grumbled the old man, who was himself again, now that he knew we had naught to fear.
"That is all we shall lose," I answered, "and what matters it? we have all our time before us."
"I like not the weather," he said shortly.
But I paid no more heed to him, for Halfden spoke to me.
"Let me leave a few men here," he said; "the boat is overladen, and the sea is rising with the breeze;" and then he added with a smile that had much grim meaning in it. "They bide as friends with you, and but for our safety; not to take charge of your ship."
So I bade Kenulf give the three who remained the best cheer that we might, treating them as Lodbrok's men; for the old pilot loved the jarl well, and I knew that for his sake he would do much.
Then in a few more minutes I stood on the deck of Halfden's ship, and word went round quickly of my news, so that I had a good welcome. Yet I liked not the look of the Danish men, after the honest faces of our own crew. It seemed to me that they were hard featured and cruel looking, though towards me were none but friendly looks. Yet I speak of the crew only, for Halfden was like his father in face and speech, and that is saying much for him in both.
They spread a great awning, striped in blue and white like the sail, over the after deck, and there they set food and wine for us, and Halfden and I sat down together. And with us one other, an older man, tall and bushy bearded, with a square, grave face scarred with an old wound. Thormod was his name, and I knew presently that he was Halfden's foster father, and the real captain of the ship while Halfden led the fighting men.
"Food first and talk after," quoth this Thormod, and we fell to.
So when we had finished, and sat with ale horns only before us, Halfden said:
"I have sought tidings of my father from the day when he was lost until this. Now tell me all his story from end to end."
And I did so; though when it came to the throwing of the line to the boat I said naught of my own part in that, there being no need, and moreover that I would not seem to praise myself. And I ended by saying how Lodbrok was even now at court with Eadmund, our king, and high in favour with him and all lesser men.
Many were the questions that the Danes asked me as I spoke, and I answered them plainly, for indeed I was glad to see the look in Halfden's eyes as I spoke to him of his father, I having naught but pleasant things to tell of him, which one may say of few men, perhaps. And by and by I spoke of his having taught me the use of the Danish axe.
"Ho!" said Thormod; "hold your peace for a while, and we will see what sort of pupil he had."
Then he rose up and took his axe, and bade me take Halfden's, which I did, not over willingly maybe, while Halfden stood by, smiling.
"I will not harm you," said Thormod shortly, seeing that I was not over eager. "See here!"
His ale horn stood on the low table where we had been sitting, and now he placed it on the gunwale, going from under the awning. The men who sat along the decks looked up at him and were still.
Then he heaved up the axe with both hands and whirled it, bringing it down with such force that I looked to see both horn and gunwale shorn through. But so skilful was he that he stayed that mighty stroke so that the keen edge of the axe rested on the horn's rim without marking it, and all the men who were watching cried out:
"Skoal {viii} to Thormod the axeman!"
"So," said he; "now stand up and guard a stroke or two; only strike not as yet, for maybe your axe would go too far," and he smiled grimly, as in jest.
But I had learned that same trick from the jarl.
Now Lodbrok had told me that when one has a stronger axeman to deal with than one's self the first thing is to guard well. So he had spent long hours in teaching me guard after guard, until I could not fail in them.
"I am ready," I said, standing out before him.
Thormod feinted once or twice, then he let fly at me, striking with the flat of his axe, as one does when in sport or practice. So I guarded that stroke as the jarl had taught me; and as I did so the men shouted:
"Well done, Saxon!"
"No need to go further," said Thormod, dropping his axe and grasping his wrist with his left hand; for that parry was apt to be hard on the arm of the man who smote and met it. "That is the jarl's own parry, and many an hour must he have spent in teaching you. It is in my mind that he holds that he owes you his life."
And from that time Thormod looked at me in a new way, as I felt.
Halfden was well pleased, and shouted:
"Nay, Thormod; your turn to guard now; let Wulfric smite at you!"
"No, by Thor, that will I not," he said; "he who taught to guard has doubtless taught to strike, and I would not have my head broken, even in play!"
Now he sat down, and I said, mindful of Lodbrok's words:
"It seems to me that I have been well taught by the jarl."
"Aye, truly," said Thormod; "he has taught you more than you think."
Halfden would have me keep his axe, but I told him of that one which the jarl had made for me, and straightway he sent the boat for it, and when it came read the runes thereon.
"Now this says that you are right, Thormod! Here has my father written 'Life for life'--tell us how that was!"
So I said that it was my good fortune to cast him the line that saved his boat, and that was all. But they made as much of that as did Lodbrok himself. And when the men came from our ship, they brought that tale from our men also; so that they made me most welcome, and I was almost fain to get away from them.
But we sat and talked while the tide went by and turned, and still we lay at anchor until the stars came out and the night wind began to sing in the rigging of the great ship.
Now I had thought that surely Halfden would have wished to sail back to Reedham at once, there to seek his father; but I knew not yet the power which draws a true viking ever onward to the west, and when I said that we would, if he chose, sail back with him on the next tide, he only laughed, saying:
"Why so? My father is well and in good case. Wherefore we will end our cruise well if we can, and so put in for him on our way home at the season's end."
"What would you do, then?" I asked, wondering.
"Raid somewhere," he answered carelessly. "We will not go home without some booty, or there will be grumbling among the wives; but for your sake we will go south yet, for you are bound for London, as I think."
I said that it was so, and that I would at once go back to Reedham when my business was done, there to prepare for his coming.
"That is well; and we will sail to Thames mouth together. And you shall sail in my ship to tell me more of my father, and because I think we shall be good friends, so that I would rather have you come and raid a town or two with me than part with you. But as you have your ship to mind, we will meet again at Reedham, and I will winter there with you, and we will hunt together, and so take you home with us in the spring."
Now this seemed good to me, and pleased me well enough, as I told him. Where Halfden and his crew went, south of Thames mouth, was no concern of mine--nor, indeed, of any other man in East Anglia in those days. That was the business of Ethelred, our overlord, if he cared to mind the doings of one ship. Most of all it was the concern of the sheriff in whose district a landing was made.
So messages were sent to old Kenulf, and glad was he to know that we should not have to give up our passage to London, and maybe still more to feel safe in this powerful company from any other such meetings. And before the tide served us, Halfden had said that he also would come to London, so that our ship should lead the way up the river.
When we weighed anchor Thormod must needs, therefore, reef and double reef his sail, else our ship had been hull down astern before many hours had passed, so swift was the longship.
Now I have said that old Kenulf had misliked the look of the weather, and now Thormod seemed uneasy. Yet the breeze came fresh from the southeast; and though it had shifted a good deal, I, for my part, thought little ill of that, for it held in that quarter till we were fairly among the sands of the Thames mouth at nightfall, and Kenulf lit lanterns by which we might follow him. No man knew the Thames-mouth channels better than our pilot, Kenulf the sea crafty, as we called him.
Then it fell dead calm, quite suddenly, and we drifted, with the sail flapping against the mast idly, for half an hour or so. Then fell on us, without warning, such a fierce gale as I had never before seen, blowing from north and west, with rain and bright lightning, and it raised in five minutes a sea that broke over us again and again as Thormod brought the ship head to wind.
Then I lost sight of Kenulf's lights, and as I clung to the rail, my mind was torn with longing to be back in my own ship in this danger, though I knew that Kenulf needed me not, and that, had I been there, it would but have been to obey him with the rest of our crew; yet I think that any man who loves his ship will know what I felt.
And of the fury and darkness of that night I will say little. This is what comes into my mind of all that happened--aye, and at night, when the wind roars round the house, I see it all again, waking in my dreams as I call to Kenulf. One flash of lightning showed me my ship dismasted and helpless, drifting broadside on to a sand over which the waves broke white and angry, and when the next flash came--she was gone!
Then I cried out on my folly in leaving her, and out of the blackness beside me as I clung to the gunwale, straining my eyes against the spray, Halfden's voice came, crying, as he gripped my arm:
"By Odin--it is well that I kept you here!"
And Thormod from the helm shouted to his men to stand by the sheet, and the helm went down, and the ship drove through the seas that broke clean over her as he saw the danger in time to stand away from it, heading her as free as he dared.
Naught of this I heeded, for I could think but of the stout sailor men with whom I had been brought up, and of whom I knew only too surely that I should see them not again. And for them I tried to pray, for it was all that I could do, and it seemed so little--yet who knows what help may come therefrom?
Now the longship fought alone with the storm. Hard was the fight, but I, who was willing to die with my own people who had gone before my eyes, cared nothing for whether we won through the gale or not. But Thormod called to me, bidding me pilot them as best I might, and so I was taken a little from my thoughts. Yet can I take no praise to myself that, when the gale slackened, we were safe and beyond the dangers of the shoals.
We were far down channel when morning broke, and on either bow were white cliffs, plain to be seen in the clear light that came after the short fury of the gale was spent. Never had I thought that a ship could sail so wondrously as this of Halfden's, and yet I took no pleasure therein, because of all that I had lost. And it seemed to me that now I knew from my own chance why it was that Lodbrok could sing no song to us at that feasting, when we came home to Reedham; for surely my case was even as his.
So I thought, leaning on the gunwale and staring ever at the white cliffs of England on our starboard; and there Halfden found me, and came, putting his hand on my shoulder very kindly.
"Now if you have lost friends and ship by the common chances of the sea," he said, "surely you have found both anew. You shall turn viking and go on this raid with us. Glad shall we be of your axe play and seamanship."
I turned to him and put my hand into his.
"I will go with you, Halfden," I said, for it seemed at that time that I had naught else left for me to do.
And ever since I was a child, listening to the songs of the gleemen, had I thought that some day I, too, would make a name for myself on the seas, as my forefathers had made theirs, so that my deeds should be sung also. Yet that longing had cooled of late, as the flying people from Mercia had found their way now and then to us with tales of Danish cruelties.
"That is well said," he answered, pleased enough. "Where shall we go?"
Then I had yet thought enough left me to say that against our Saxon kin I would not lift axe. And so came to me the first knowledge that what wiser men than I thought was true--that the old seven kingdoms were but names, and that the Saxon and Anglian men of England were truly but one, and should strive for that oneness, thinking no more of bygone strifes for headship.
"Why, that is fair enough, so you have no grudge to pay off," he said; "but I will help you to settle any, if you have them."
"I have no grudge against any man," I answered, truly enough.
"Then if we raid on English shores, you shall keep ship, as someone must; and so all will be satisfied," he answered; "but we will go first to the Frankish shores, for it is all one to me."
So that pleased me as well as anything would at that time; whereupon we went to Thormod, and he was very willing that I should take part and share with them. And as to my loss, he bade me take heart, for a seaman has ever risks such as these to run; and, as it seemed, this ship of ours had ever been lucky. Which was true enough, as my father had told me by the fireside many a time.
After this we headed over to the Frankish shore, and there I had my first fight. For we raided a town there, and the citizens stood up to us well. I fought in silence, while my comrades yelled to Thor and Odin as they smote, for those against whom we fought were Christian men, and to fight against them by the side of heathen went against me. Yet the lust of battle took hold on me, and fight I must. But I will tell no more of that business, save that Halfden and Thormod praised me, saying that I had done well. And after that the crew asked that I should lead the men amidships, for their head man had been slain, and Halfden was on the fore deck, and Thormod aft. So my boyish dreams were like to come to pass, for I was thus a viking indeed. Yet I had little pride therein.
Thence we raided ever eastward and westward along that shore, and I grew to love Halfden well, strange as were his wild ways to me. For he was in all things most generous; nor was he cruel, but would hold back the more savage of the men when he could--though, indeed, that was seldom--when they were mad with fighting.
So the weeks went on, until at last one day as we left a haven where we had bided for a while, taking ransom from the town that we might leave it in peace, we spied a sail far off coming from eastward, and Thormod would have us bear up for her, to see what she might be. But instead of flying, as a trading ship would, the strange vessel waited for us, lowering her sail and clearing for action, so that there was doubt if she was not Norse. Now between Dane and Northman is little love lost, though at times they have joined hands, loosely as one might say, or as if cat and dog should go together to raid a rabbit warren.
"If she be Norse," said Halfden, and his eyes shone, "we will fight her, and that will be a fight worth telling of by the crew that is left when we have done!"
But she turned out to be Danish, and a boat came from her to us. She was on the same errand as ourselves, and, moreover, belonged to one Rorik, who was a friend of Lodbrok's, so that again I must go through all the story of his perils.
Now if Halfden's men had seemed rough and ill-favoured to me when first I saw them, time and comradeship had worn off the feeling, but it came back to me as I looked on these men, and most of all on this Rorik; so that for a little I hated myself for being in their company to make war on peaceful Christian folk, though, indeed, I could well excuse myself, seeing what straits had thrown me thus among them to follow the ways of my own forefathers, Hengist's men.
These newcomers held long counsel with Halfden and Thormod, and the end of it was that they agreed to sail in company, making a raid on the English coast, and first of all on the South Saxon shores, behind the island that men call Wight. And that was the thing that I had feared most of all, so that as I sat silent and listened, taking no part, as I might, in the planning, my heart seemed like to break for the hardness of it.
Yet I set my face, saying naught, so that presently Rorik looked over at me and laughed, crying in a kind of idle jest:
"Silent is our friend here, though he looks mighty grim, so that I doubt not he will be glad to swing that big axe of his ashore."
Now I was in ill company, and must fit my speech to theirs, answering truly enough:
"It seems to me that some of us here were a little downcast when we found that you were no Northmen, for we looked for a fight."
Whereon they all laughed, and Rorik said that maybe his men had the same longing, but that we would make a great raid between us. And so the matter passed, and he and his men went back to their ship, and we headed over to the English shore together.
There is a wondrous joy in the heart of a man who sees his own land again after long days at sea, but none of that joy might be mine as the long lines of the South Downs showed blue through the haze of the late September day. Only the promise of Lodbrok's son, that on English shores I should not fight, helped me a little, else should I have been fain to end it all, axe to axe with Rorik on the narrow deck just now, or in some other way less manful, that would never have come into my mind but for the sore grief that I was in. And these thoughts are not good to look back upon, and, moreover, I should have fully trusted my friend Halfden Lodbroksson.
Hardest of all was it to me when I knew where our landing was to be made; for if Glastonbury is the most holy place in Wessex, so should Bosham, the place of Wilfrith the Saint, be held in reverence by every South Saxon; because there, unmindful of his wrongs {ix}, he was content to labour with the wild heathen folk, teaching them, both in body and soul, the first lessons of our holy faith.
Well knew I the stories of those places which I saw as the ships crept up the haven, for Humbert our bishop had told me them many a time when as a child I sat on his knee and listened, wondering. There was Selsea with its pile of buildings--Wilfrith's own--there the little cliff over which the starving heathen had cast themselves in their despair, and there, at last, the village, clustering round the little monastery that Dicul, the Irish monk, had founded, and where Wilfrith had first taught. And now, maybe, I must see the roofs that had sheltered him, and heard the first praises of his converts, burnt before my eyes, and that while I myself was siding with the destroyers.
Then at last I took Halfden aside and told him my trouble, putting him in mind of the promise he had made me.
"Aye," said he, "I knew what made you so silent, and I have but waited for you to speak. Ill should I have thought of you had you not done so. But I have this plan for you. You shall go ashore with the first, and speak to the Saxons to give us ransom, if they have aught, or if any man is foolish enough to bide in the place when we come. Then, if you will, you shall leave us and make your way homeward, there to give messages to my father and yours, and to look for my coming to Reedham shortly. There will I winter with you, and we will sail to Jutland in the spring."
Then he looked long at me, and put his arm round my shoulder.
"Truly I shall miss you, Wulfric, my brother, yet it is but for a short time."
Now I knew not how to thank him, for this plan was all that I could wish. And he would have no delay, but gave me good Saxon arms and helm, and a chain-mail byrnie {x} of the best, such as Saxon or Dane alike would wear, for he had many such, gathered from the different lands he had raided with his father and brothers.
"Any man, seeing you in Danish arms and helm," he said, "might well mistrust you. So you must needs take these, for you have far to go."
Then, too, he pressed on me a heavy leathern bag, for he said truly enough that I should need gold withal to buy a horse. And this I took willingly, saying that it should be as a loan till he came to Reedham.
"Nay," quoth he, "this is your share of booty; we surely gained enough on yonder shores to bring you this much."
Then I was silent, for I was ashamed of those gains, and I did not look into the bag, but bestowed it inside my mail shirt, for I would not offend him. Then, when I was armed and ready, he gave me many messages for his father, and thanks to mine. A ring, too, he gave me for a sure token of his friendship to me; and so as the ship crept, under oars only, up Bosham haven, we talked of the hunting we would have together, when the leaves were fallen in our forests; and that was pleasant to look forward to.
Now began frightened men to run to and fro on the haven's banks, and then suddenly came the ringing of a bell from the low tower of the church, and the Danes began to look to their arms, stringing bows, and bringing up the pebble ballast for sling stones, in case the landing should be resisted.
But when we came to a little wharf, the other ship being perhaps a mile astern of us, there was no man. Only a small fishing vessel lay alongside, and that we cast adrift, taking its place.
Then Halfden and I and twenty men went quickly ashore and marched up among the trees of the village street. There was no man in sight, but the bell was still ringing.
A great fear for the holy men shut up in the little monastery came over me now, and I asked Halfden to let me warn them, for I knew that he was like his father and would not deny me in this.
"Go and do so if you can," he said, "and so farewell till we meet at Reedham. We shall bide here till Rorik's men join us, and you will have time."
So he took my hand and I went quickly thereafter, the men calling after me "Farewell, axeman!" heartily enough, knowing of my going to Reedham, and caring nothing for the monks, seeing that there would be no fighting.
Now, guided by the bell, I went on quickly, seeing no man. The houses stood open and deserted, and all along the road were scattered goods, showing that the people had fled in haste, so that they had soon cast aside the heavier things they had thought to save.
Soon I came to the gate of the little stone-walled monastery, over which rose the tower whence the bell yet rang; for the church seemed to make one side of the courtyard into which the gate would lead. A farm cart stood outside; but the gates were closed, and when I looked, I saw that the pin of the wheel was broken, so that the cart could go no further. And that made me fear that more than the monks were penned inside those four walls.
I knocked loudly on the gate, and for a while was no answer, though I thought the ringing of the bell grew more hurried. Then I beat on the gate with my axe, crying:
"Open, in the name of Eadmund the King."
And I used his name because, though a Dane might well call in subtlety on the name of Ethelred, none but a Saxon who knew how well loved was the under-king of East Anglia would think of naming him. And I was right, for at his name the little square wicket in the midst of the gate opened, and through its bars an old monk looked out, and at once I cried to him:
"Let me in, Father, for the Danes are at my heels."
He muttered a prayer in a voice that trembled, and let me in, holding the gate fast, and closing and barring it after me.
And all the courtyard was full of terrified men, women, and children, while among them stood the half-dozen monks of the place, pale and silent, listening to the clang of the bell overhead.
When they saw me some of the women shrieked and clung to children or husbands, scared at my arms. But one of the monks, a tall man on whose breast was a golden cross, came quickly to me, asking: "Is the sheriff at hand with the levy?"
I told him hastily how that the only hope for these helpless ones was in flight to the woods, urging him until he understood me. Gathering his monks around him, and rousing the people, he led them to the rearward gate that opened toward the forest land, calling at the same time to his swineherd, who was there, and bidding him take them by the forest tracks to Chichester.
Then he bade his monks go also; but they lingered, asking to be allowed to stay with him, and also what should become of the holy vessels if the heathen laid profane hands on them.
"Obey, as your vows bid you," said the prior; "I and this warrior will care for the holy things."
So they went, weeping, and were lost in the woods; for there was little cleared land round the village, and the trees came close to the monastery walls.
Now we two, the monk and I, stood at the open gate for a moment and listened. We could hear nothing of the Danes as yet.
Then we closed and barred that gate; and all this while the bell had tolled unceasingly, calling as it were for help that came not.
"Now do you go and call the sacristan from the bell," the prior said, "and bid him lead you to the chancel, where I shall be."
I went to the tower door, unhesitating, for this man seemed to have a wondrous power of command, so that I obeyed him without question, even as had the villagers. And even as I went there came the sound of many rushing feet up the street, and yells from Danish throats, while axe blows began to rain on the gate by which I had entered.
Then the prior bade me hold the gate when he heard that, and he spoke quietly and in no terror, turning and calling to the man in the tower himself; while I stood opposite the gate, looking to see it fall with every blow. Yet it was not so weakly made as that, and moreover I remembered that it was crossed with iron bands in squares so that the axes could not bite it fairly.
Now the bell stopped and the Danes howled the louder. A torch flew over the wall and fell at my feet blazing, and I hurled it back, and the Danes laughed at one whom it struck. Then came the two monks from the tower and ran into the church, while I watched the trembling of the sorely-tried gate, and had it fallen I should surely have smitten the first Dane who entered, even had Halfden himself been foremost, for in the four walls of that holy place I was trapped, and knew that I must fight at last. And now it seemed to me that I was to fight for our faith and our land; and for those sacred things, if I might do naught in dying, I would give my life gladly.
"Come," said the prior's voice, and he was smiling though his face was pale, while behind him the sacristan bore an oaken chest, iron bound, on his shoulders.
He drew me across the courtyard, but I ever looked back at the gate, thinking it would fall; and now they were at the other gate, and blows rained on it. Yet the monk smiled again and went on without faltering, though our way was towards it.
Then we turned under an arch into a second court, and the din was less plain as we did so. There was the well of the monastery, and without a word the sacristan hove the heavy chest from his shoulders into its black depths, and the splash and bubble of its falling came up to us.
"That is safe," said the prior; "now for ourselves."
He hooked the oaken bucket to its rope and let it down to its full length in the well, and at once the sacristan swung himself on it, slid down, and was gone. Then the rope swayed to one side, and stayed there, shaking gently in a minute or so.
The prior drew it up, and maybe fifteen feet from the top, there was a bundle tied--a rope ladder on which were iron hooks. These he fastened to the edge of the oaken platform that covered the well mouth, and let the other end fall down the well. Then he bade me go down to the sacristan.
That was easy to me, and I went, yet I feared for him who stood listening to the splintering of the nearer gate, for it would soon fall surely. I saw the sacristan's face glimmer white before me from a hollow in the well shaft, as I set my foot on the last rung of the ladder, and I held out my hand to him. Then in a moment I was beside him in a little chamber built in the walling of the well; and after me came the prior.
He jerked the ladder from side to side till the hooks above lost their hold and it fell, so that he drew it in. We were but a few feet above the water, and the well rope hung down into the blackness before us, but I was sure that no man could see the little doorway of the chamber from above, for the trapdoor in the well cover was small, and light there was hardly any.
"Now all is safe," said the prior; "and we may be careless again."
"They will burn the monastery," I said. "One torch has been thrown already."
He smiled a little, as I thought, for my eyes were growing used to the dim light.
"They may burn some things, but roof and benches are soon made afresh. There is oaken timber in plenty in Andredsweald, and ready hands to hew it. Our stone walls they cannot hurt."
Those were all the words we spoke of the matter at that time, for there came a great shouting. One of the gates had fallen at last, and the Danes were in the place.
"Father," said the sacristan, "surely they will find this place?"
The prior laughed a short laugh.
"That is a thought born of your fears, Brother," he answered; and I who had had the same fear was rebuked also, for indeed that I should go down the well had never come into my mind, even in our need of shelter, so why should the Danes think of it?
Then we were silent, listening to the feet and voices overhead. The Danes found the belfry presently, and began to toll the bell unskillfully while the men below jeered at those who handled the ropes. Then the bell clashed twice strangely, and the prior laughed outright.
"The clumsy churls have overthrown her," he said, "now I hope that one has had his head broken thereby."
I marvelled that he could jest thus, though maybe, after the strain and terror of the danger we had so far escaped, it was but natural that his mind should so rebound as it were.
Very soon after this the Danes came clattering into the little court where the well was, and straightway came to its mouth, casting stones down it, as no idle man can help doing. The sacristan crept to the furthest corner of our little den and sat there trembling, while I and the other monk listened with set teeth to the words that came down to us. Nor will I say that I was not somewhat frightened also, for it seemed to me that the voices were unknown to me. They were Rorik's men, therefore, and not our crew--who likely enough would but have jeered at me had they found me hiding thus.
"Halfden's men have drunk all the ale in the place, and that was not much," said one man; "let us try the water, for the dust of these old storehouses is in my throat."
Then he began to draw up the bucket, and it splashed over us as it went past our doorway.
"There is naught worth taking in this place," growled another man. "Maybe they have hove their hoards down the well!"
Now at that the sacristan gave a stifled groan of terror, and I clutched my axe, ready for need.
"All right, go down and see!" answered one or two, but more in jest than earnest.
Then one dropped a great stone in, and waited to hear it bubble from the bottom, that he might judge the depth. Now no bubbles came, or so soon that they were lost in the splash, and the prior took some of the crumbling mortar from the cell walls, and cast it in after a few moments. And that was a brave and crafty thing to do, for it wrought well.
"Hear the bubble," said the Dane; "the well must be many a fathom deep--how long it seemed before they came up!"
So they drank their fill, saying that it was useless to go down therefore, and anyhow there would be naught but a few silver vessels.
"I have seen the same before," said one; "and moreover no man has luck with those things from a church."
No man gainsaid him, so they kicked the bucket down the well and went away.
Now I breathed freely again, and was about to whisper to the prior that his thought of making what would pass for bubbling was good; but more Danes came. And they were men of Halfden's ship; so we must wait and listen, and this time I thought that surely we were to be found. For the men began to play with one another as they drank from the bucket; pushing each other's heads therein, and the helm of one fell off and fled past us to the bottom; and some words passed pretty roughly. And after they had done quarrelling they crowded over the trapdoor, as one might know by the darkening of the shaft. Then one saw the helm, for it was of leather, iron bound, and had fallen rim upward, so that it floated. Now one was going to swarm down the rope to get it, but as he swung the rope to him, the bucket swayed in the water under the helm, and he saw that it did so. Whereon he wound both up, and they too went away.
"That was a lucky chance!" I whispered.
"No chance at all, my son; that was surely done by the same Hand that sent you here to warn us," answered the prior. And I think that he was right.
Now came a whiff of biting smoke down the well shaft, borne by some breath of wind that eddied into it. The Danes had fired the place!
"Father," I whispered, pulling the prior forward, for he had gone into the little cell to give thanks for this last deliverance.
He looked very grave as he saw the blue haze across the doorway, hiding the moss and a tiny fern that grew on the shaft walls over against us.
"This is what I feared, though I must needs make light of it," he said.
"It cannot harm us here," I answered.
"All round this court on three sides the buildings are of wood; sheds and storehouses they are and of no account, but if one falls across the well mouth--what then?"
"Then we are like to be stifled," said I; for even now the smoke grew thicker, even so far down as we were. And when I looked out and up there was naught but smoke across the well mouth, and with that, sparks.
"Pent up and stifled both," said the quavering voice of the sacristan from behind us. "How may we get out of this place till men come and raise the ruin that will cover us? And who knows we are here but ourselves?"
"Forgive me for bringing you to this pass," said the prior gravely, after a little silence.
The smoke grew even denser, and we must needs cough, while the tears ran from my eyes, for the stinging oak smoke seemed trapped when once it was driven down the well.
"I have known men escape from worse than this," I said, thinking of Lodbrok, and turning over many wild plans in my mind.
"I had forgotten this danger of wooden walls," said the prior to himself, as it were. "Doubtless when this well chamber was made it was without the inclosure."
Now it seemed to me that this could not be borne much longer, and that soon the walls he dreaded would fall. So as one might as well die in one way as another, I thought I would climb to the well's mouth and see if there were any chance of safety for these two monks. Yet I had no thought of aught but dying with them, if need were, though as for myself I had but to walk across the courtyard and go away. The Danes would but think I lingered yet for the sake of plunder.
"If we may not stand this smoke, neither can the Danes," I said. "I am going to see."
So I set down my axe and sword and leapt sailor-wise at the rope--which the men had dropped again when they had taken the helm from the bucket--catching it easily and swarming up to the trapdoor. I only raised myself to the height of my eyes and looked out.
I could see nothing. The dense smoke eddied and circled round the court, and the Danes were gone, leaving us in a ring of fire on three sides. The wooden buildings were blazing higher every moment, and the heat seemed to scorch my head and hands till I could scarcely bear it. But as the wind drove aside the smoke I could see that the way to the rear gate, the last we had barred, was clear. So I slid down and hung opposite the chamber. The monks looked out at me with white faces.
"It may be done," I said. "Come quickly! it is the only chance."
The prior gave me the rope-ladder end without a word, not needing to be asked for it; nor did I wait to say more, for at that moment a roof fell in with a great crash, and a red glare filled the well as the flames shot up, and the sparks and bits of burning timber came down the shaft and hissed into the water below me.
I clomb up, fixed the ladder, and called down to the prior to bring my arms with him. There was a burning beam not three feet from the well mouth, part of the fallen roof that had slipped sideways from it. The flames that shot up from the building were so hot that I could barely abide them, and I shaded my face with both my hands, crying again to the monks to come quickly.
In a few seconds came the sacristan, white and trembling--I had to help him out of the well mouth. The prior was close to him; he was calm, and even smiled at me as he saw me clutch my arms eagerly.
"To the rear gate," I said, turning and kicking the ladder into the well, and thinking how cool the splash was compared with this furnace of heat. "Kilt up your frocks and go swiftly, but run not," for in that smoke, save their long garments betrayed them, a man might be armed or unarmed for all that one could see.
So, walking quickly, we came to the court entrance, and even as we stood under its archway the building nearest the well fell with a crash and rumble, covering the well mouth with a pile of blazing timber. The smoke and flame seemed to wrap us round, while the burning timber flew, and the Danes from the great courtyard yelled with evil delight; but before that cloud had cleared away we three were outside the monastery gate, and were safe.
"Just in time," I said.
But "Deo gratias" said the monks in a breath.
"Now run," said I, and into the nearest spur of woodland we went, and stayed not till we were beyond reach of the yells of the destroyers, who, as it seemed, had not even seen us.
When we were sure that we were not pursued, the prior took my arm and pressed it.
"Thanks to you, my son, our people are safe, and we have come out of yon furnace unscathed. May you find help in time of need as near and ready. Now when I read the story of the Three Children, I think I shall know all that they suffered, for we have been in like case."
And I could make no answer, for it seemed to me that I had forgotten that I was a Christian of late. And that was true.
Now the prior bade the sacristan hasten to Chichester and tell all this to the sheriff, and he left us, while we went on alone. Presently I asked who made the chamber in the well, for the silence weighed on me, and my thoughts were not so lightsome.
"Doubtless by Wilfrith's men," he said, "and for the same turn it has served us. For in his days there were many heathen round him, and flight or hiding might be the last resort at any time."
Then I wondered, saying that I deemed that surely it was a greater thing to be a martyr and to die, than to save life.
"Not always so," he answered, and then he told me of the ways of holy men of old time. "We may by no means save life by denying our faith, but we are bidden to flee into another place when persecuted. We may not choose the place of our death, nor yet the time."
So he showed me at last what it was to be truly a martyr, fearing not, nor yet seeking death.
"Of a truth," he ended, "the Lord may need my death by the hand of the heathen at some time, and when the time comes I shall know it, and will die gladly. But while He gives me the power to save life blamelessly, I know that He needs me on earth yet, though I am of little worth."
So we were silent after that, ever going on through the woods. At last he laughed a little, and looked sidewise at me.
"We two are alone," he said, "therefore I do not mind saying that I have been fairly afraid--how felt you?"
"I would I might never be so frightened again," I answered, for truly I had made myself so at one with this brave man that I had forgotten that there was little fear for myself, as I have said, unless that it had been Rorik's crew who had found us, for only a few of them knew me.
We came now to a place where the trees thinned away on the brow of a hill, and I could see the broad waters of the haven through their trunks. We had reached the crest of that little cliff over which Wilfrith's heathen had cast themselves in the great famine from which he saved them.
"Let us see the last of Bosham," the prior said sadly. So we crept through the fern and long grass, and lying down looked out over haven and village. Even if a prying Dane looked our way he would hardly see us thus hidden, or if he did would take us but for villagers and care not.
Now I saw that the tide was on the turn, and that Halfden's ship--my own ship, as I have ever thought her--had hauled out, and her boats waited for the last of the crew at the wharf side. But Rorik's ship was there still, and her men were busy rigging a crane of spars as though they would lower some heavy thing on board her. Nor could I guess what that might be.
Then I looked at the village, which was burning here and there, and at the monastery. They had not fired the church, and the Danes clustered round the tower doorway, busied with something, and I could see them well, for the smoke from the burning buildings blew away from us.
Now I asked the prior what heavy things worth carrying away might be in the monastery.
"Naught," he said; "since they have drunk all the ale that was in the cask or two we had.
"But," he added, "there is the great bell, it is the only weighty thing else."
Then I knew what was toward, and said:
"I fear, Father, that your bell is going to be taken to become metal for mail shirts, and axe heads, and arrowheads, and helms."
"Holy St. Wilfrith!" cried the monk, in great grief; "would that we could have saved it. There is no such bell in all England, and if they take it, many a sailor will miss its call through fog and driving mist, and many a shepherd on yonder downs will wait for its ringing, and be the wearier for lack thereof."
"Never have I seen bell too large for one man to handle," I said; "this must be a wondrous bell!"
So it was, he told me, and while we watched the busy Danes, he began to sing to me in low tones the song of Bosham bell which his people would sing by the fireside.