One moment's silence, and then a howl from the Danes who watched, and they flew on us, bearing us back a pace or two. Odda went down under the rush that was made on him, and I called to my comrades, and stood over him, and beat them back. But Hubba's fall was the end.
Even as I stood there, there came a rash of men from our ranks past me; and I cheered, for I saw Heregar's silver mail driving straight for the Raven standard, at the head of the young thanes who were the shield wall of the Dragon of Wessex. Then, too, closed in the wounded men and the country folk; and the Danes broke and fled towards the ships in disorder. We followed for a little way, and then the thralls ended matters. They say that not one Dane reached the river's bank, beyond which their comrades watched and raged, powerless to help them.
I went back to where Odda had fallen, and at that time there rose a thundering cheer of victory from our wearied line, and helms were cast into the air, and weapons waved in wild joy. That roused one who lay before me, and white and shaking, up rose Odda from among the slain. I went to him, and got my arm round him; and again the men cheered, and little by little the colour came back to his face.
"I thought you slain outright," I said; "are you much hurt?"
"I cannot tell," he said. "I believe I am sound in limb, but my wind is gone. It is ill for a stout man to have mail-clad Danes hurled on him by heavy-handed vikings."
So he said, gasping, but trying to laugh. And, indeed, he was unwounded, save for a cut or two, and he still grasped his red spear in his right hand.
Now I looked on our men, and saw that we might not bide for another fight. Already some whom the wild joy of battle had kept strong in spite of wounds were falling among their comrades, and it seemed to me that wounds were being bound up everywhere.
But there was a token of victory that made these seem as nothing. In the midst of all Heregar stood with the Dragon banner, and by his side his son-in-law, Turkil the thane of Watchet, bore the captured "Raven."
Harek the scald looked at it once, and then went to its heavy folds, and scanned carefully the runes that were thereon.
"Ho, comrades!" he cried joyfully, "here is a winning that will be sung of long after our names are forgotten. This is the magic Raven that was wrought with wizardry and spells by the daughters of Ragnar Lodbrok. Ill will this news fall on Danish ears from end to end of England. This is worth two victories."
"I have seen it many times before," said Heregar; "nor is this the only time that I have tried to win it. But never before have I seen it hanging motionless as it hung today. There seems to be somewhat in the tale they tell of its flapping foreboding victory."
"Ay," said Odda. "Today they despised us, and bore it not forward; therefore it flapped not, seeing that there was no wind where it hung."
The ealdorman called us together then, and pointed to the Danes who were massed beyond the river.
"Now it is time for us to go. We have won a good fight, and some of us are yet alive. It will not be well to lose all by biding here to be slain to the last man now. Shall we go to Bridgwater or to the Quantocks, and so to Taunton?"
Then Heregar said:
"To the hills; for we should be penned in Bridgwater between this force and the other. I think that while we are yonder they will not do much on this side the Parret; and men will ever gather to us."
Then we took our wounded and went back to the fort--four hundred men out of six hundred who sallied out, where we thought that none would return. But how many Danes we left on the field it is hard to say. Some say six hundred, and some more; and it may be so. Their graves are everywhere over the hill where they fell. When the tide rose we were gone; and Hubba's men sought the body of their chief, and raised a mound over it. But they had no mind to stay on our side of the river, and they went to the Polden Hills, and laid the land waste far and wide, even to holy Glastonbury, until they joined Guthrum's force at Edington.
Now one may know in what wise Etheldreda the brave shield maiden met us, as we came back from that hard-won field, with words of praise and thanks. But Thora stood not with her as we passed through the fort gates, where she waited on the rampart with the Lady Alswythe. Nor had she watched the fight at all, being torn with sorrow and fear alike.
I found her presently, while the men made litters whereon to bear our wounded to safety, having cleansed the stains of war from my armour. King Harald's mail had kept me from wound worth notice--though, indeed, I hardly know how it was that I was unhurt thus. Kolgrim would not use his arm for many days, and Harek was gashed in arm and thigh also.
When Osmund heard my tread, he started up from where he sat beside Thora, looking away towards the hills to which we were going, and greeted me warmly.
"It was a good fight, Ranald, and well won," he said.
Then Thora turned slowly, and looked at me fearfully, as if she feared me. I was grieved, and would have gone away; but she drew nearer, and the fear went from her eyes when she saw that I was safe, knowing little of what I had been through. And at last she smiled faintly, saying:
"King Ranald, they say my warrior has fought well."
"It had been strange had I not, Thora," I said.
"I think I should have hated my own kin had you fallen," she said then.
"Ay," said Osmund, "war sees strange chances, and a man's thoughts are pulled in many ways. Many a time have I seen Dane fight with Dane on the old shores; and I can welcome a victor heartily, even if it is my own kin who have been beaten. Presently we Danes will fight for our new homes in England against such a landing from beyond seas as you have met."
There was some scratch on my shield arm that drew Thora's eyes at this time, and as the jarl spoke she came quickly to me, taking some light scarf she had from her dress at the same moment.
"You are hurt," she said; "though it is little. Let me bind it for you."
I suffered her to do so, saying nothing, but smiling at her, while the colour came brightly into her face as she wrought. The jarl smiled also, turning away presently as some new shouting came up from the fort gateway, where men welcomed those who bore back the spoils from the slain.
Then Thora had finished, and I put my arm round her and kissed her once.
"My lady," I said, "it was worth the wound that you should tend it."
And so she looked up at me frankly, and we knew well what had grown up between us since the day when we had ridden together into Wareham streets.
Now after this we held the great Dowsborough fort on Quantocks for a few days, looking out over the land that should see the greatest deeds of Alfred, the wise king, from Glastonbury in the east to the wide stretches of the great wood, Selwood Forest, beyond the Stanmoor fens; and there, in the clear air, and with plenty of good provender from the smiling Taunton vale behind us, we grew strong again.
The Danes marched on Bridgwater, and the garrison must needs leave the place and retreat to the heights at Petherton, and there hide. I was grieved that my good ship was in Danish hands, but at least I knew that they would not harm her; and such was our faith in Alfred the king, that I believed that I should have her back. Old Thord came up to us when his charge was thus lost.
"Maybe they will finish painting her, and we shall be able to launch her, when we go back, without more trouble," he said. "Two of Hubba's ships, moreover, are worth having."
Then the king rode up to us, and told us that we had done well, and that the great plan yet held. Already he had messengers out throughout all the southern counties, and already men were gathering through the land and filling the towns that the Danes were leaving.
"When I know that the Danes have their eyes fixed on Quantock side again, I shall strike," he said.
So began again the life in Athelney and at Stanmoor fort; but now the Devon men gathered openly on our hills, and every day the Danish force grew also. When the last fight came, there would be an end to either one side or the other, and Guthrum knew it.
Once in that time I rode with Alfred, and saw Neot again; and if it were but for a few hours that we might stay with him, he found time to speak with me, asking if I had learned aught of his faith as yet.
"I have been in Athelney," I answered, "and I saw what might the holy Name has at Chippenham. The old gods have passed from me."
Little have I said of this, for one cannot speak of inmost thoughts; but so it was. Yet I think that, had I been older, the old faith would have died more slowly from my mind. So it was also with Harek the scald, but I think that he was Christian in heart before I had bent my mind to the matter in earnest. Long talks had he with Denewulf, the wise herdsman, while I listened.
So holy Neot rejoiced greatly over us, bidding me seek baptism at once.
"Nay, father," I said; "I fear it, knowing what it is. Let me bide for a time till I am stronger in these deep things."
He tried to persuade me gently, but at last let me be, knowing that I spoke in earnest and with all wish to seek it rightly.
So we left him on the day after we came, and went back to Athelney, and Alfred was very silent all the way.
"What ails you, my king?" I asked him at last, fearing that his pain, which had left him of late altogether, might return.
"I will tell you, cousin," he said. "Plainly has Neot shown me that all these troubles have come from my own pride and self will when first I was king. It is a long chain of happenings, of which you would know nought were I to try to tell you. But so it has been, and I weep therefor in my very heart."
Then said I:
"What is past is past, King Alfred, and best friend. Look on to the days to come, for I think that there shall rise a new and happier England before the winter comes again. There is no man whom I have met in all the hosts in whose heart is not love and best thoughts of you. Old days are forgotten as if they had never been, save that you led and conquered in the great battles beyond the Thames."
He held out his hand to me, and took mine and gripped it, saying no word, and riding on in silence for a mile and more. And after that he was of good cheer again till we came to Exeter, and there I stayed to see how fared my ships, for it was time they were in the water again.
Well had my men and the Saxon wrights wrought at building. If all went like this, King Alfred would have a fleet that could sweep the seas from Dover to Orme's Head, and keep his land from new plunderers at least.
In a week I came back to Athelney, and there was good cheer, and all were in the best of heart, for things went well. Messengers came and went across the winding paths from the southern hills, and Ethered met me laughing, and said:
"The king has robbed you of your glory, Ranald. He has been into the Danish camp--even to the presence of Guthrum himself."
Then I would hear of this from Alfred himself.
"Ay," he said, when he had greeted me and heard that the ships were almost ready, "I have outdone you; for I have played the gleeman as I planned, and have been in the midst of them yonder on Edington hill."
"It was an awesome risk to run, my king," I said.
"Which you taught me yourself, cousin. Howbeit I met no damsel, and I had no companion to return with but him with whom I went--Heregar's young son, my page. Thane is he now by right of unfearing service. Once, when I climbed the hill, I began to fear greatly, and I stayed, and asked the boy if he was afraid to go on. Tell me truly, Ranald, did you fear when you were in Wareham?"
"Truly I feared at first," I answered; "but since I was there when it came on me, I must even go through with the business. So it passed."
"Well, I am glad you confess it," he answered, "for I was minded to turn and run when the first lights of the great camp showed through the trees. Then the boy answered me, 'My king, why should I fear when you are with me?' I was ashamed, and took Harek's harp from him--for he carried it--and went forward boldly, singing the song of Gunnar in the snake pit. And it seemed to me that Harek would have chosen that song as fitting my case; for, putting Danes for snakes, I was in a close place enough. The warriors came out when they heard me; and I was well treated, and listened as I drank. Many things I learned."
Now I cannot believe that Alfred feared at all. He was surely but anxious, and took that feeling for fear. So think all his people.
"It seems that they thought I sang well," he went on; "so they took me to Guthrum. He indeed looked sharply at me once, and maybe twice; but I went on singing Harek's songs, and paid no heed to him. Presently he gave me a great horn of ale from his own table, and this gold bracelet that I wear also, and sent me away. Then I went about the camp and heard the talk. One man asked me if I had seen Alfred, and what he was like. 'Faith,' said I, 'men say I am like him.' Whereat they laughed long at me and at the king also. Then heard I the truth about my own looks for once. I had some trouble in getting away, but at last I seemed to wax hoarse, and so made as if I would go to Bridgwater, and left them, promising to come again. Ay, and I will keep my promise," he said; "but as Harek's heathen songs say, it is the sword's mass that I will sing to them."
Then his eyes glowed, and he was silent, and I wondered at the courage and resource in the slight figure that was before me.
"All goes well, and the plan is good," he went on directly. "They look for some easily-beaten attack from this side of the Parret, and at the first sign thereof will leave Edington height for the level ground below, as they did when Hubba came. Then when they turn, on Edington hill will be our levy suddenly--a levy of which they have not dreamed. And there will be the greatest fight that England has seen yet, and after that there will be a Saxon overlord of England against whom none will dare rise."
"May it be so, my king," I answered.
"It will be so," he said. "Here in this cottage have I had the word that tells me thereof; and you, Ranald, brought the sign that made the word sure to me."
I minded it, and I knew that for all my life my ways were bound to the service of Alfred the king; for my fate was linked with his, as it seemed, from my first coming.
It was not long now before the day came that will never be forgotten; for word was brought in from every quarter that thanes and freemen and churls alike would not be behind when Alfred gave the word, and he sent back to bid them meet him at Ecgbryht's Stone, beyond Selwood, on Whitsunday. There is a great and strong camp there on a rocky hill that looks out far and wide, near the two great roads, British and Roman, that cross in the vale beneath; and to that all were to gather, for there would the Golden Dragon be set up. Men call it White Sheet Castle.
On the day before I rode to Odda, who had already drawn his men to the Petherton ridge above Bridgwater, and told him what the king's word was. Then I went on up the long side of the Quantocks, and spoke in the Maytime woods with Thora, telling her--for she was a warrior's daughter, and was worthy of a warrior's love--that I must be at the king's side. And so she bade me fight bravely, speaking many noble and loving words to me, until I must go. Then I led her back to Osmund in his place among the rough huts within the wide circle of the camp ramparts, that now held but a few poor folk from the Parretside lands.
"King Alfred makes some new move," I said to him, "and it is possible that we may not meet again. I think that what is coming will end all the trouble between Saxon and Dane."
He shook his head.
"Some day it will end," he said, "but not in my time or yours--not until the Danes have grown to know that England is their home, and that they are English by birth and right of time--maybe not till Denmark has ceased to send forth the sons for whom she has no place in her own borders."
Then I answered that perhaps he was right. I did not see into things as far as he, and I was a stranger in the land.
"But this at last will give a strong overlord to England," I said.
"Ay, for the time. So long as a strong king rules, there will be less trouble indeed; but if Alfred's sons are weak, it will begin afresh. England will no longer bear two kings; and while there is a Saxon kingdom alongside a Danish, there cannot be lasting peace."
Then I said:
"What of yourself? Shall you go back to Guthrum when this is over?"
"I cannot tell," he answered. "What my fate is I know not yet. What mean you to do if all goes well for Alfred? Shall you bide in England?"
We had walked apart now, and were looking over all the fair Quantock vale beneath us. I think there is no fairer lookout in all England: land and river and hills and sea, and beyond the sea the blue mountains of the Welsh coast--ever changing and ever beautiful under sun and cloud and flying shadows.
"I have found the fairest land under the northern sun," I said; "and I have found the best king, as I think. I shall bide here. One other thing I have found of which I hardly dare to think, so many are the chances of wartime. Yet, jarl, but for them I should not have met with Thora, though in my heart I believe that I should not have spoken to her yet."
"I would not have had it otherwise," he said, kindly taking my arm. "I have seen what was coming long before Etheldreda spoke. It has been good for Thora that she did so, whatever befalls."
Then we spoke of my promised place with the king, as if his victory were certain. Indeed, I believe that we both had no thought of its being otherwise.
"I do not know, however," said Osmund, "if your taking a Danish wife will be well received. It may be likely that Alfred will wish you to be bound to him by some tie of that nearness which shall be of his making."
I had not thought of that, but it was a thing that was common enough. Harald Fairhair was wont to give a rich wife to some chief whom he would keep at his side.
"If that is so, I shall go hence," I said. "There are things that come before friendship."
"Well," he answered, "we shall see. There is always a place for us both at Rolf's side in his new-won land."
"Yet I should be loth to leave Alfred," I said most truly. "I think that this is the only thing that would make me do so."
"Thora would not stand in your way to honour with him, nor would I," said Osmund.
"Honour with Alfred shall not stand in my way, rather," I answered. "But we speak of chances, as I think."
We said no more, and he bade me farewell.
I went back to Alfred somewhat sad, and yet with many thoughts that were good and full of hope; and soon I had little time to do aught but look on at the way in which the king's plans worked out most wonderfully.
On the eve of the great Whitsunday festival we set out through the fen paths southward to the hills and the first woodlands of Selwood Forest, and when the morning came we were far in its depths, passing eastward towards the place where we were to meet the levy.
Presently we turned aside to a little woodland chapel that had escaped the sight of the Danes, and from a hut beside it came out an old priest, white-bearded and bent with age and scanty fare. At first he feared that the heathen had found him at last; yet he looked bravely at us, catching up the crucifix that hung at his side and clasping it in both his hands as he stood in the open doorway of his church, as if to stay us from it.
Alfred rode forward to him when he saw his fear.
"Father, I am Alfred the king," he said. "Far have I ridden on this holy day. Now I would fain hear mass and have your blessing before we go on."
Thereat the old priest gave thanks openly to the King of kings, who had brought Alfred again into the land, and hastened to make ready. So that was the king's Whitsuntide mass, and we three heathen and our few men must bide outside while the others went into the holy place and returned with bright faces and happy; for this was a service to which we might not be admitted, though all knew that we would be Christians indeed ere long.
So at last we came to the ancient castle, and saw the valley to north and east beneath its height, bright everywhere with sparkling arms that gleamed from lane and field and forest glade, as all Wessex gathered to meet their king.
Then the Golden Dragon that we had lost and won was unfurled; and the war horns blew bravely enough to wake the mighty dead whose mounds were round about us; and soon the hillside was full of men who crowded upwards and filled the camp and ramparts and fosse, so that before sunset Alfred had a host that any king might be proud to call his own. Yet he would call it not Alfred's force, but England's.
Standing on the old ramparts, he spoke to them, while all the great gathering was silent. And the words he said sank into the heart of every man who heard, so that he felt as if on his arm alone it rested to free England, and that his arm could not fail. Not long did the king speak, but when he ended there rose a cheering that was good to hear, for it came from hearts that had been made strong to dare aught that might come.
After that he spoke to the thanes, giving each one his place, and telling them all that he had planned, so that each knew what was looked for from him. It seemed that he had forgotten nothing, and that the day must go as he said he thought it would.
Men slept on their arms that night, without watch fires, lest any prowling Danes should see that somewhat was on hand, although Guthrum had drawn to him every man from out of Wessex, as was said, and as seemed true. I have heard tales from some that in the night the warriors who lie resting in the mounds around their old stronghold came forth and wandered restless along the ramparts, longing to take their part again in the mighty struggle they knew was coming. I saw nothing, but Harek the scald says he saw.
Next day we marched towards our foes. Eighteen miles we went, and then came to the holy place Glastonbury, where the burnt ruins spoke again, as it were, to the warriors of wrong and cruelty to be avenged.
There we were, but eight miles from the foe, and that night we lay in a great meadow they called Iglea, deep down in the folds of the hills, where even so great a host might be hidden for many days if no chance betrayed them. Alfred took a few of us when night came, and climbed the steep tor above Glastonbury town. Thence we could see the long line of fires on Polden Hills that marked where the Danes slept, all unknowing that any host could be gathered in their rear.
In the grey of morning we set our ranks in order. I was with Alfred, with Ethered of Mercia and Ethelnoth, and more nobles whom I knew; and my few men were in the shield wall, among the best warriors of the Saxon levies. None grudged that honour to those who had made the point of the wedge that broke Hubba's ranks and won the Raven banner.
Now, in our Norse land there is ever sacrifice to the Asir when one leads a host to battle, that luck may be on the right side; and now I was to see a more wondrous thing than even that. I knew by this time the meaning of what I saw, and there crept into my heart a wish that I might take full part therein with Alfred, who had taught me.
When all the ranks were ordered, and the deep columns were drawn up on Iglea meadows in three sides of a square, there came a little train of robed monks, at whose head was Bishop Sigehelm of Sherborne, before whom went a tall gilded cross. Careworn and anxious looked the good fathers, for there was not one of them who had not a tale of Danish cruelty and destruction to tell, and more than one had hardly escaped with his life; but now their faces were brighter with new hope as they came into the open side of the armed square and waited for a moment.
Alfred and we stood before them, and the bishop raised his hand. At that we all knelt, with a strange clash and rattle of arms that went round the great host and ceased suddenly, so that the stillness was very great.
Then was only the voice of the bishop, who in a clear tone spoke the words of peace to those who should pass hence in the coming battle, that they might fight bravely, and even rejoice in death.
So he shrived the host, and at the end they said "Amen" in one voice.
Thereafter the bishop prayed to the Lord of hosts--not such a prayer as I had been wont to hear, but more wonderful, and with no boasting therein, nor, as it were, any hate of the foe, but rather the wish that the strife should make for peace, and even blessing to them.
Then he lifted his hand and blessed all the host as they bared their heads, and again the last word rolled deep and strong round the ranks, and that was all; then Alfred cried cheerily to his men, and we began our march that must needs end in battle.
There is a great road that climbs up the slope of the Polden Hills from Glastonbury and then runs along their top to Edington and beyond, and by this way we went, among pleasant woodlands. Guthrum's own place was on the spur of Edington, because thence one looks out on all the land that Alfred held, from the fort at Stane hill to Bridgwater and Combwich and the sea beyond. That was only eight miles from us, and was the point which we would win. Thence to Bridgwater is five miles, and the town was now held in force by the Danes; and where the road leaves the hills to cross the marsh to the bridge and town, two miles away, was a camp that guarded the causeway through the level.
We went quickly as a great host may, and Alfred had so ordered matters that even as we set out from Iglea, Odda and his force were moving in battle array from the Petherton heights on the Quantock side of the town, as if to attack it. That was what Guthrum had looked for since the time we had beaten Hubba, and the only attack which could have seemed possible in any way.
It is likely that he overrated the number which Odda had with him; for those who escaped us at Combwich had not been near enough to see from the far side of the river how small our force was, and would make much of those who had been able to overcome their mightiest chief. Moreover, since that time seven weeks had gone by, and the gathering of Devon might be greater yet. So it was, indeed; but Odda had not a thousand men. Perhaps, too, the Danes feared some sally from the fens; but however it was, they made not the mistake which destroyed Hubba by despising us rashly, for Guthrum drew his whole force together, and left the hills for a march towards the town which he heard was threatened.
So when we came to Edington, Guthrum's hill fort was empty, save for a camp guard to keep the country folk who lurked in wood and fen from pillaging it. These men fled, and we stood on the ridge without striking one blow; and King Alfred turned to us, and cried that surely his plan was working out well.
Then our host lined the ridge, and a mighty Saxon cheer from ten thousand throats went pealing across the valley below us, and they say that shout was heard even in Bridgwater. Guthrum heard it as he rode with his host across the long causeway, and his men heard it and halted, and saw in their rear the blaze of war gear that shone from their own lines, and knew that they were pent in between fens and hills, with an unknown force ready to fall on them.
Whereon a panic very nearly seized them. Hubba's end was fresh in their minds, and it needed all that Guthrum could say to prevent them making for the town. But he minded them of old victories, and bade them not fear to face the despised Saxons once again, and they rallied. But it was noon before he could lead them to attack us, and by that time he learned that Odda had halted above the town, and need not be feared. But by that time also every post of vantage along the hills was in our hands, and if Edington height was to be held by Danes again, it must be won by hard fighting. That is a thing that no Dane shrinks from, and now for Guthrum there was nought else to be done, for he was surrounded, as it were.
No man saw the whole of that fight, for it began at noon, as I have said, when Guthrum turned to find the hillward road blocked behind him. And from that time on it raged from spur to spur and point to point, as step by step the Danes won back to the hillsides. But the crest of the hill they never gained, save where for a time they might set foot and be driven headlong in turn by those who had given way before them at first. And so the fight swept on to the base of Edington hill and along its sides, for there Alfred had held his best men in reserve. Already the Danes had made for themselves some shallow lines of earthworks along the crest, and now these were manned against their own attack.
Men who looked on from afar tell strange tales of the shouts and cries that rang among the quiet Polden hills and woodlands that day for long hours. It was very still, as it chanced, and the noise of battle went far and wide from the place where Saxon and Dane fought their greatest fight for mastery.
Ever rode Alfred with the light of battle on his face, confident and joyous, among his men from post to post. Ever where the tide of battle seemed to set against us his arm brought victory again, until at last Guthrum drew his men together for one final attack that should end the day.
On Edington hillside he massed them, and steadily they came on under shield in a dense column to where, in their own camp, we waited under the Dragon banner. Half our men, the best spearmen of the force, were lying down resting, but along the little ridges of the earthworks the archers stood, each knowing that he fought under the eye of the king he loved.
"This is the end," said Alfred, as the Danes came on. "Be ready, spearmen, when I give the word."
And they lay clutching their weapons, with their eyes fixed on him as he stood on the hilltop, surrounded by his thanes, gazing on the last assault of the Danes, whose archers from the wings were already at work, so that the men of the shield wall closed in around him.
I think that the Danes had no knowledge of what force was hidden by the hill brow. For when they were within half arrow shot, and Alfred gave the word, and the long ranks of spearmen leaped from the ground and closed up for their charge, a waver went along the shielded line, and they almost halted, though it passed, and they came on even more swiftly.
Then Alfred lifted his sword and shouted, and, with that awful roar that I had heard before on the Combwich meadows, over the hill crest and down upon the Danes the spearmen rushed. The lines met with a mighty crash of steel on steel, and while one might count two score they swayed in deadly hand-to-hand strife. Then Guthrum's men gave back one pace, and howled, and won their place again, and again lost it.
Then forward went Alfred and his shield wall, and I was on one side of him and Ethered of Mercia on the other, while after him came Heregar, bearing the banner. The Danes in the centre closed up as they saw us come, and there were shouts in which Guthrum's name was plain to be heard, and I saw him across a four-deep rank of his men.
Straight for him went Alfred, and the Danish line grew thin before us. But as their king went forward our Saxons cheered again and pressed their attack home, and right and left the Danish line fell back and broke. At that a wild shout and charge with levelled spears swept them down the hillside in full rout, and the end had come. His courtmen closed round Guthrum and bore him from before us, and the full tide of pursuit swept him away before we reached him.
Alfred stayed his horse and let the men go on. His face was good to see as he glanced round at the hills to our right; but when it fell on the slain, who lay thickly where the lines had met, he bared his head and looked silently on them for a space, while his lips moved as if he prayed.
Then he said:
"These have given their lives not in vain, for they have helped to bring peace, and have died to set an English king over the English land."
He put on his crown-circled helm again, and as he did so, among the fallen there was a stir and movement, and the wounded rose up on arms and knees and turned on their sides, and raised their hands, waving broken weapons, and crying in a strange, wearied voice that yet had a ring of victory in it:
"Waeshael to Alfred the king!"
For the silence that had fallen, and the lessening shouts of the pursuers, told them that they had won, and they were content.
Thereat Alfred flushed red, and I think that he almost wept, for he turned from us. And then he spoke to the men who yet stood round him, and said:
"Let every man who has any knowledge of care for the wounded, or who has known a wound of his own and the way it was cared for, go among these brave ones and help them."
Nor would he leave the place till he saw men going up and down among the hurt, tending them as well as they could; and he was the more content when he saw Bishop Sigehelm and many other clergy come on the field from the rear, where he had bidden them stay. The bishop had mail under his robes, having been eager to join in the fight, as would Eahlstan, his great forerunner, have certainly joined; but Alfred would not suffer him to do so.
Once more Guthrum tried to rally his men, when the flight bore him to his camp at the hill foot, on the way across the fens to the town. There was a sharp fight there, and Ethelnoth was wounded as he led on his men; and thence the Danes fled to Bridgwater, making no more delay. So close on them were our men that Guthrum's housecarls closed the gates after their king on many of their comrades, who fell under the Saxon spear in sight of safety. Nor did we give them time to drive in the cattle that were gathered from all the countryside to the meadows round the place.
Then came Thord to me and put me in mind of somewhat.
"Now is our work to be done, king. These Danes will take Hubba's ships and be gone down the river next. We must stop them in some way, for the king's plan is to starve them out, as it seems."
We had left the king at that time, for we would not suffer him to join in pursuit, which has its dangers, if men turn desperate and make a stand, as many did, dying like brave warriors that they were. So I rode on quickly with my followers, and came to the river bank below the bridge. The Danes were swarming on the ramparts of the fortress like angry bees, and in the ships, which lay beneath the walls, men were busy, even as Thord had guessed they would be, making ready to sail when tide served. We could not reach them by any means, for every boat had been taken from this side long ago, when the first news of defeat was brought back by flying horsemen.
Then Thord's face glowered under his helm, and he pointed to the ship that was farthest from the bridge, and therefore likely to be the first to start away when the tide was full. It was my own ship, which they had got afloat.
"Thor's hammer smite them!" he growled; "they have launched the old keel without finishing her painting--just as I left her. How are we to stay their going off with her?"
"Is there a chain cable anywhere?" I asked.
"Not one in the place," he said; "and if we did get one across the river, we should have to fight to keep the far end of it."
The tide was rising fast, and I thought we should surely lose every ship, while Guthrum and his chiefs would escape us at the same time. One might line the banks with archers, certainly, but that would not stay the going. Evening was closing in, moreover. By midnight they would be gone, and I was in a difficulty out of which I could not see my way.
Suddenly Thord smote his hands together, and his face grew brighter.
"I have it," he cried. "There is an old vessel that lies in a creek a mile down the river. A great buss {xvi} she is, and worth nothing; but she will float, and maybe will be afloat now. If we can sink her across the channel in a place that I know, not one of these ships will get away till she is raised."
Then I called every man to me whom I could see, and we went quickly to the place where this buss was, and she was just afloat. Thord knew where her tackle was kept, and he had the oars out--what there were of them at least, for they were old and rotten enough. Then we had to shove her off and get her boat into the water, and the vessel itself floated up on the tide towards the narrow place where she might best be sunk to block the channel against ships that came from the town.
We had not gone far when there came a sound at which I started, for it was nothing more or less than the quick beat of oars coming down the river against the tide. Thord and I and eight men of my own crew were in the buss, while I had maybe thirty men ashore who were keeping pace with us along the bank. The rest of my own men were with these, and one shouted that he could see the ship, and that it was our own, crammed with men too.
Now at first it seemed as if the only thing for us to do was to go ashore in the boat as quickly as we could and get away; but Thord cried to me:
"Then will the Danes take our ship to sea, and we have lost her for good. It should not be said of us that we let her go without a blow struck to save her."
"Sink this hulk straightway, then," I said, falling to work, with the axe I had in thy hand, on the lowest strakes. My men leaped to work as well, and in two minutes the seams began to gape, and then was a rush of water from broken planking that sent us over the side and into the boat in hot haste.
Then we pulled for shore, towing the bows of the fast-sinking buss with us till they grounded in the mud, and even as her stern swung with the tide across the channel she lurched and sank.
"We should have bided in her and fought," growled Thord. "Now in five minutes we shall see the bottom ripped out of our own ship by our own deed."
But a foot of the bows and the mast of the buss stood out of the water, and I thought the Danes would see these marks.
Even as we gained the shore our dragon stem swept round the bend that had hidden us, and came on swiftly. Then the Danes saw us, and those on the fore deck shouted, and the oars plashed wildly, and many on the side next to us stopped altogether; and at the same time the steersman saw the stem of the wreck, and, as I think, lost his head between fear of it and the sudden appearance of the foe whom he thought he had escaped. The larboard oars were going yet, and the starboard had almost stopped. He paid no heed to it, and the ship swung over. Then the tide caught her bows, and in a moment she ran hard and fast on our bank, and the men in her fell right and left with the shock.
I had seen what was coming, and so had Thord, and we ran our best to meet her as she struck. The tide was a good one, and she came well on the hard bank, and there was no need to tell my men what to do. Before the Danes knew what had happened we were climbing over the bows on board, and the Danes aft were leaping into the river to get away from us.
Some few tried to fight; but there must have been two hundred men packed along the gangways, and they could do nothing. They threw themselves into the water like the rats that had left the old buss even now, and we slew many, and the good ship was our own again. Some of the Danes got ashore on the far bank, some were met by our Saxons on this side, and but few got back to Bridgwater, for the river had most of them.
Another ship was coming at this time, but those in her heard the shouting and the cries; and it would seem that their hearts failed them, for they went back before we could see more than the tall mast above the banks from our decks.
Then we thought we might rest, for we were wearied out; but Thord would not suffer us to do so till he had got the ship carefully below the wreck, so that she was free. Had we waited for the next tide we could not have done it, as it turned out; for the rise of flood shortened quickly to the neap tides, and a bank of mud grew round the sunken hull, making the channel impassable altogether for the time, and so the last way of escape for Guthrum and his men was barred.
So I thought we had done well, and left Thord and my men to guard the ship and take her back to Combwich, where she would lie safely in the creek, while I rode to Alfred, almost sleeping on my wearied horse as I went.
There were two wrecks in that place in the morning; for they brought down one of Hubba's ships in the dark on the next tide, and she ran on the sunken stem of the buss, and went down almost at once. After that no more attempt was made to fly by water.
Then began a siege that lasted for a fortnight, without anything happening that is worth telling; for the fear of Alfred was on the Danes, and they had not heart so much as to make one sally from the gates.
Now in a few days it was plain that Alfred held the Danes in the hollow of his hand as it were, and could do what he would with them. At first we looked for messengers from the place, to treat with him for peace; but none came. From the town at times we could hear shoutings and the noise of men who quarrelled, as if there were divided counsels among them that led to blows. They were very short of food also, because all their stores of cattle were left outside the walls, as I have said, so that we fared the better for their plundering while we waited.
At the end of the first week, therefore, Alfred sent a message under flag of truce, and told the chiefs that he was willing to hear what they would say; and next day Guthrum asked that some chiefs might come and speak with him. But Alfred would not trust the Danes enough to send any of his nobles into the town, and bade Guthrum come out to the camp and say what he had to say. But he would not. Then one day, when Alfred held counsel as to what was best to be done to ensure lasting peace, I said that I thought Jarl Osmund might be of use, for he could go between the two camps in safety.
That seemed good to the king, and Heregar and I rode to find him, crossing the tidal ford at Combwich, where we heard from village folk who had returned that the Danish lord bided in Heregar's house beyond the fort.
There I thought I should find Thora, and we went quickly. The place looked very deserted, and when we came to the courtyard gates it seemed more so, for the Maytime had sprinkled the gay-patterned paving of grey and white shore pebbles with blades of grass and weeds that sprang up between them everywhere for want of tendance.
Only the Lady Alswythe and a few of her servants were there now, for the Lady Etheldreda had taken Thora with her to Taunton when she left the hills. It had not been so safe here, though there was little plunder to bring the Danes to the place now. So I need not say that I was grievously disappointed, though in the dismantled hall sat Osmund, listlessly shaping a bow stave, and waiting for what turn of fortune should take him next.
Very glad, as one might think, were both the lady and the jarl for our coming, and we had to tell them all the tale of the working of Alfred's plan, and of the great fight. And when that was heard, we told the jarl of Alfred's wish to treat with Guthrum and the other chiefs through him.
That Osmund would gladly do; indeed, he said that, in hopes of being thus useful, he had stayed so near at hand.
So he and the thane talked long of the matter--for Alfred had sent messages--while I spoke with the lady, of Thora mostly.
It did not seem to me that I had any part in the king's business with the Danes, and so presently I thought that I could do no better than ride to Taunton to see Thora, who I feared might be in trouble or doubt as to my safety.
So I rode there with Kolgrim. At that time the scald was laid up with a wound in the camp, and the king seemed to miss his presence, and to care for his welfare as if he were his brother; but, indeed, he made every man with whom he had to do feel as if his king were his best friend.
There is not much need for me to tell what manner of welcome I had at Taunton from Thora. As for Etheldreda, she would have me tell her everything, and I sat with those two, until night came and rest, talking of all the time past. But of the time to come Thora said nothing, and once or twice when Etheldreda left us and we were alone for a little while, so that I could try to plan out somewhat, she would but turn the talk again.
In the morning I found out how this was. She had gathered from Osmund somewhat of his thoughts about what Alfred's plan for me might be, and was unhappy therefore, not wishing to stand in my way to honour with the king. So she told me when I pressed her a little to speak of what I would do; and when I said that there should be nothing that I would let stand between us, she was the more troubled yet.
So at last I went and found Etheldreda, and prayed her to come and speak with Thora.
"Falling out already?" she said, laughing.
"Not so, but a greater trouble than that," I said, "one that will need your help before it is mended."
"Ay, I suppose you could patch up a quarrel for yourselves," she said. "What is this mighty trouble?"
So she came and sat by Thora, taking her hand and kissing her, and we told her what Osmund's thoughts were.
"There is such enmity between Saxon and Dane," Thora said, "that it is not likely that the king will trust one who will wed one of his foe's daughters."
It was plain that Etheldreda thought the same; but she cheered us both, saying that she would do all that she could to help us, and that Odda would not be behind in the matter. After all, if we were to wait for a while, things might be very different after a little time of peace. And so we were content.
So I went back to Alfred next day, and when he heard where I had been he smiled a little, and said:
"One thing I must tell you, my Norseman, and that is that our thanes who know little of you will be jealous that you should have much dealing with any Dane as yet."
Which made me the more uneasy; for though I might think that the king, at all events, was not displeased with me, others, and the wishes of others, might be too strong for him to go against.
But my affairs are little things compared with what was on hand at this time, and on the same day Alfred spoke to me about somewhat that he would have me do for him.
In the town the Danes were in the greatest straits by this time, for by no means could they get stores of any sort to them, so close was the watch round the place. Osmund had been in and out once or twice, and Guthrum had received him well enough, and it was thought that there would be no long delay now before the siege was at an end by the submission of the Danes to any terms they might gain, and the more so that an assault on the fortress would surely have been successful, ending in the fall of all its defenders.
But Alfred was most willing to be merciful, and he had bidden Osmund tell Guthrum and his chiefs that if he might name twelve hostages for himself the rest should go free, while Guthrum should hold the East Anglian kingdom for him as under-king.
But this was what Alfred would have me do.
"One other thing there is," he said. "If there is to be any brotherhood between us, it must be as between Christians. The ways of persecution must be forgotten and that cannot come to pass until the chiefs at least have accepted the faith."
"It is strange to me, my king," I said, "that Guthrum, who has been in England for ten years, is not Christian by this time."
"Ay, but his hosts are heathen," the king answered. "Now I think I can speak to you as if no longer a heathen at least?"
"As a Christian, my king," I answered.
"Well, then," he said, smiling on me, "go and speak to Guthrum and tell him what I have said. I think that he will listen to you better than if I sent a priest or even Bishop Sigehelm. Warrior may speak to warrior plainly."
Now this was a hard thing for me to do, as it seemed. Maybe it was the hardest thing he could have asked me. But it was in my mind that I could not but go to Guthrum and give the message, else would I seem to deny the faith that I loved. Alfred saw at once that I was troubled in some way, and I believe that he knew well what the seeming doubt was.
"Once you brought a token of good to me," he said. "Now that was all unknowing. Go now and take a message of good to Guthrum openly, and have no fear."
"What shall I say?"
"Mind not that at all," he answered; "what is needed will come to you."
So I said that I would go if Harek might come with me, for his words were ever ready. But Alfred would not suffer that. I must go without help from a scald, taking only my own words; and at last I consented, though indeed my only fear was that I might not succeed by reason of my slowness of speech.
Then I went to Osmund, and told him that I was to go into the town with him next day, for that is how Alfred planned for me; and I told him also what my part in the business was to be. Whereon he surprised me.
"I do not know that your errand is so hopeless as you seem to think," he said. "Guthrum has harmed no Christians in East Anglia since he was king there."
"Well," I answered, "I hope it may be easy, though I doubt it."
I would not say more then, but, being anxious, went and spoke long with Harek. The brave scald's wounds were deep, though he had said little of them. Some say that he saved the life of Ethelnoth at the time when that ealdorman was struck down, and that also is Ethelnoth's story; though the scald says that if so it was by accident, and less worth speaking of than many braver deeds that were wrought and went untold that day.
"Here have I been in England but six months or so, and I have more to sing of than ever I learned with Harald Fairhair," he said one day, as he made songs on his bed while his wounds were healing.
And he spoke the truth. Never was a winter so full of deeds wrought by a king and a valiant people that were worth a scald's remembrance.
Now Osmund had a last message from Alfred that day, and in the morning we went together to the bridge. There Guthrum's own courtmen met us, and they took us into the fortress, beyond which lies the town, so that we saw little of what straits the host might be in by this time. In the fortress itself all seemed in order at least; and there was a guard set at the door of the well-built hut where the Danish king was, as if some state were yet kept up.
There Guthrum welcomed us, and with him were many chiefs, on whose faces was the same care-worn look that Osmund had borne when I saw him at Exeter before Alfred.
"Two messages come to you today," Osmund said; "one by my mouth, and the other by that of King Ranald Vemundsson, who is with me. I think you may hear both, and answer them both favourably."
Guthrum made no reply, but took his seat at the upper end of the one room the hut had; and all the chiefs sat also, leaving us messengers standing.
Then said Osmund:
"I think it right that I should stand in the presence of my king, but the son of King Vemund should not do so in any less presence than that of his overlord."
Thereat Guthrum smiled a little.
"I have heard that Harald of Norway came to blows with his brother kings because they would not stand before him, and that others have left that kingdom because they did not choose to do so. Sit down, King Ranald. Your father's name was well known to all of us in the old days. I am glad to see his son, though maybe I should not say so."
"We would rather that he were on our side," said one of the other chiefs.
Then they set places for both of us, and we waited for Guthrum's word.
"Well," he said, wearily enough, "let us hear what King Alfred says."
"Few are his words," said Osmund:
"'Let Guthrum suffer me to choose any hostages that I will for myself, let him swear to keep the peace hereafter as my under-king beyond Thames, doing homage to me, and he shall go hence with his host in honour.' There is also the message of Ranald to add hereto."
Now I thought that the faces of the chiefs showed that they thought these terms very light; but they said nothing as yet.
Guthrum turned to me.
"Well, King Ranald?"
"Alfred the king bids me say that he would fain treat with you hereafter as a brother altogether. And that can only be if the great trouble between Dane and Saxon is removed--that is, if Guthrum becomes a Christian."
Now I expected some outburst of scorn and wrath on this, but instead of that a silence fell, in which the chiefs looked at one another; and Guthrum gazed at me steadfastly, so that I felt my face growing hot under his eyes, because I knew I must say more, and that of myself and my own wishes most likely.
Then Guthrum said slowly:
"Why has he not sent some priest to say this?"
"Because he thought that a warrior would listen best to a brother warrior," I answered.
"Ay, that is true," said the king. "Are you a Christian, therefore?"
"I am as yet unbaptized," I said. "I have taken the prime signing on me, as have many others; but I shall certainly seek baptism shortly."
"You came here as a heathen, then?"
"As a heathen altogether, except that I had no hatred of Christians," I answered, not quite seeing what the king would know.
"What turned your mind so far from the old gods that you should be a fit messenger on such a matter to us?"
"I have learned from Alfred and Neot," I answered, "and I know that I have found what is true."
Then Guthrum turned to Osmund.
"What say you, jarl? you have been with Alfred also."
"When Ranald is baptized, I shall be so with him," the jarl answered simply.
And that was the first word thereof that I had heard from him.
Then an older chief spoke sharply to us.
"What profit do you look to make thereout--either of you?"
"Certainty of better things both in this life and in that to come," I answered.
"Ay, so they always say," the chief growled; "but what place with Alfred in return?"
"It is likely that I shall gain no place with him," I said. "Jarl Osmund knows that I do not count on that."
"Ay," said Osmund, "I know it. Nor will any man think that I seek honour at Alfred's hands."
Then Guthrum rose up, and spoke gravely and yet very determinedly, as if this was no new matter to him.
"Here, chiefs, are two good and tried warriors who willingly choose Alfred's faith. You and I have heard thereof since we were in England; and many a man have we seen die, since we have been here, because he would not give it up. I mind me of Edmund, the martyred king, whom Ingvar, our great chief, slew, and of Humbert the bishop, and many more lesser folk. Tell me truly how much you have thought of the Asir in these last years?"
But none answered. It was with them as with me: the Asir were not of England.
"One thing," said Guthrum, "has gone against our taking up the English faith--we have thought the words of peace have made men cowardly. Now we know that is not so. Here is one who withstood Hubba, and round the walls watch Christian men who have beaten us sturdily."
Then he stayed his words for a little, and his voice sank, and he looked round and added:
"Moreover, the words of the new faith are good. I will accept King Alfred's brotherhood altogether."
Then one or two more of the younger chiefs spoke, and said that they would do so also; but again the elder warrior spoke fiercely.
"Is this forced on us as part of the peace making?"
"It is not," I answered. "It is, as I have said, the wish for brotherhood altogether."
Then said Guthrum:
"That is enough. I do not think that we need be ashamed to be conquered altogether by King Alfred."
"One more word," said the old chief. "Are we to have no hostages?"
"There can be no exchange of hostages," said Osmund.
"Things are all on the side of the Saxon," he growled.
"Ay, they are, in more ways than that," said Guthrum. "We have no power to say a word. It is in my mind that we could not have looked for such mildness at the king's hands. For there is no denying that we are at his mercy.
"What say you, as a stranger, Ranald?"
"I have known the ways of Harald of Norway," I answered. "I think that he would not have left a man of this host alive."
Whereon the old warrior laughed shortly, and was silent while Guthrum bade us go back to Alfred and thank the king for his word, saying that an answer should be given as soon as the word of the host had been taken in open Thing.
So Alfred won Guthrum to the faith, and greatly did he rejoice when he heard what the Danish king had said. I think he was more glad yet when he knew that Osmund would become Christian also, and he urged us both to be baptized at once.
"Let us be so with Guthrum," I asked.
"That will be fitting," he answered, "for I think you have won him over."
But I hold that Guthrum and more of his chiefs had been won by the deaths of those martyrs of whom he spoke long before the choice was set before him. One cannot tell how this was wrought in the mind of the Danes altogether by the hand of God. Some will ever say, no doubt, that they took the Cross on them by necessity; but I know that it was not so. Nor have their lives since that time given any reason for the thought.
Then Alfred asked the name of that old warrior who withstood us, and Osmund told him.
"I will have that chief as a hostage," the king said, "for I think that he is worth taming."
"I think that King Alfred's hostages are not in any way to be pitied," Osmund said.
"Save that they are kept from home and friends, I would have them as happy as may be," the king answered; "but I would have none presume on what mercy came to you, Jarl Osmund, for the sake of the Christmastide message."
"I think that none will do so," Osmund said. "There is full knowledge among my kin that you showed mercy when justice was about to be done, and well they know that your kindness was not weakness. It is likely that the mercy shown here also will do more for peace than would even destruction of your enemies."
So it seemed at last, for on the fourteenth day of the siege the Danes accepted the king's terms with one consent. And more than that, Guthrum and thirty of his chiefs asked that they might be baptized; which was a wonder to all of our host.
Now I have said nothing about the life in the great camp before Bridgwater, for it had nothing of much note to me, though it was pleasant enough. I think there was some jealousy of me among the younger thanes at one time; but it passed because I would not notice it, and also because I took no sort of authority on me, being only the king's guest and warrior as yet. But I did find a few young thanes of Odda's following who knew somewhat of the sea, and I was wont to talk with them often of the ships and the like, until I knew they would be glad to take to the viking's path with me in the king's ships, bringing their men with them. And often Alfred spoke with me of the matter, until I was sure that he would have me stay.
It was but a few days after the peace had been made when Alfred went to a great house he had at Aller, which lies right amidst the marshes south of Athelney. We had saved that house and the church by our constant annoyance of the Danes, with many another house and village along the fen to which they dared not come for fear of us at last. Guthrum was to come to him there, and I think that he chose the place because there at least was nought to bring thoughts of defeat to the Danes, and there they could be treated as guests, apart from the great camp and fortress. Great were the preparations there for the high festival that should be when Alfred himself should take Guthrum to the font.
Then came Neot on foot, with Guerir his fellow hermit, from Cornwall, to be present; and Harek and I rejoiced as much as the king that he had come.
"I think I must answer for you two at the font," he said.
"For Kolgrim also, I pray you, Father Neot," said I; "for he will be baptized with us."
"Ay, for honest Kolgrim also," he answered; "but what of old Thord, my reprover?"
"He will have nought to do with the new faith," I said. "But at least he does not blame us for leaving the old gods. He says he is too old to learn what we younger men think good."
"I will seek him and speak with him again," Neot said. "I think I owe him somewhat."
Then we thanked the holy man for the honour that he was showing us; but he put thanks aside, saying that we were his sons in the truth, and that the honour was his rather.
Now in the seven weeks that we waited for Guthrum at Aller, while the priests whom Alfred sent taught him and his chiefs what they should know rightly before baptism, Osmund and I were wont to go to Taunton, across the well-known fens, and bide for days at a time in Odda's house there, and we told Thora for what we waited.
She had come to England, when she was quite a child, with the first women who came into East Anglia, and already she knew much of Christianity from the Anglian thralls who had tended her. And when she had heard more of late from Etheldreda and Alswythe, she had longed to be of the same faith as these friends of hers, and now rejoiced openly.
"Ranald," she said, "I had not dared to speak of this to my father, but I was wont to fear the old gods terribly. They have no place for a maiden in their wild heaven. There are many more Danish ladies who long for this change, even as I have longed. Yet I still fear the wrath of Odin for you and my father."
"The old gods are nought--they have no power at all," I said, bravely enough; though even yet I had a little fear in thus defying them, as it seemed.
"Then I will dread them no more," she answered. "Nor do I think that you need fear them."
So I comforted her, and bade her ask more of Etheldreda, who would gladly teach her; and the matter passed by in gladness, as a trouble put away, for she and I were at one in this. I will say that I had half feared that she whom I loved would have been angry with me.
Now on that night Osmund and I and Harek would ride to Heregar's house over the shoulder of the Quantocks, with some message we had to take to him from Alfred; and we went without any attendants, for the twelve miles or so would have no risk to any one, and the summer evening was long and bright.
Yet we were later in starting away than we should have been, and so when we were among the wilder folds of the hills, where the bare summits rise from wooded slopes and combes, we were overtaken by a heavy thunderstorm that came up swiftly from the west behind us, darkening the last sunset light with black clouds through which the lightning flickered ceaselessly.
We rode on steadily, looking for some place of shelter; but it grew very dark, and the narrow track was rough, and full of loose stones that made the going slow. Presently the clouds settled down on the hill crest and wrapped us round, and the storm broke afresh on us, with thunder that came even as the darkness was changed to blue brightness with the lightning flashes that played around us almost unceasing. There was no rain yet and no wind, and the heat grew with the storm.
Soon the nearness of the flashes scared our horses, and we had to dismount and lead them, and in the darkness we lost the little track among the heavy heather. And then there seemed to me to be a new sound rising among the thunder, and I called to Harek, bidding him hearken.
It came from seaward, and swelled up louder and louder and nearer, until it passed over our heads--the yelp and bay of Odin's wild hounds, and the trample and scream of his horses and their dead riders. A great fear fell on me, so that the cold sweat stood on my forehead, while the hunt seemed everywhere above us for a moment, and then passed inland among the thunder that hardly drowned its noises.
Then Osmund the jarl cried out:
"That was Odin's hunt. I have heard it before, and ill came thereof. He hunts us who forsake him."
And out of the darkness Harek answered, without one shake in his brave voice:
"Odin's hunt in truth it was, and the ill comes to Odin, who must leave this land before the might of the Cross. We who bear the sign of might he cannot touch."
Then I remembered myself, and the fear passed from me, and I was ashamed. I had no doubt now that there was need for Odin's wrath, seeing that he was surely defeated. And Osmund was silent also, thinking doubtless the same things; for he had taken on him the prime signing long ago, and had forgotten it maybe.
Then we went on, and the storm grew wilder. Harek sang now, but what the words were I cannot tell. I think they were some that he had learned from Alfred.
Now we began to go down the southern slope of the highest neck of the hill, as it seemed, though we could not rightly say where we were, and in a little silence that came between the thunderclaps I heard the rattle of hoofs as of another rider coming after us, going faster than we dared.
"Here is one who knows the hill well," I said; "maybe he will guide us."
And then the lightning showed the horseman close to us. He reined up, and cried in a great voice:
"Ho, strangers! are you wandering here?"
"Ay; we are lost till the storm passes. Can you guide us to shelter before the rain comes?" I said.
"Whence come you?" he asked.
"We are Alfred's men from Taunton--going to the thane's house at Cannington."
"Ay, is that so? Then I will guide you. Follow," he said, and he rode on.
One could see him plainly when the lightning came, and it showed a tall man, grey bearded, and clad in a long hooded horseman's cloak, under which gleamed golden-shining mail. Well mounted on a great horse he was also, and its sides were white with foam on the dark skin, as though he had ridden hard.
We mounted and went after him, with the lightning playing round us and glancing from the mail of our leader as his arm threw the cloak back over his shoulder from time to time. He led us along the hill crest northward, crossing the places where the fire beacons had been; and we wondered whither he was taking us, for shelter here was none. And now the storm grew wilder, with the wind and chill of coming rain.
Then he turned downhill, riding fast until we came to a place where rocks lay loose and scattered everywhere, and our horses stumbled among them. There he reined up suddenly, holding up his hand, and shouting through the uproar of wind and thunder:
"Hold, for your lives! Hearken!"
We stayed motionless, listening, and again we heard the cry and clang of Odin's hunt, coming now from inland over us, and I made the sign of the Cross on my breast, in fear thereof.
"Ho for Odin's hunt!" the strange man cried, in his mighty voice. "Hear it, Alfred's men, for you shall join it and ride the wind with him if you defy him."
"We fear him not," said Harek; "he has no power over us."
"Has he not?" the man roared, facing full upon us; and as he did so the lightning glared on him, and I saw that his drawn sword was aloft, and that from its point glowed a blue flame, and that blue flames also seemed to start from his horse's ears. One-eyed the man was also, and he glowered on us under shaggy eyebrows.
Harek saw also, and he raised his hand towards the man and signed the holy sign, crying:
"Speak! who are you?"
Thereat the man gave a hoarse roar as of rage, and his horse reared, trampling wildly on the loose rocks, and, lo, he was gone from before our eyes as if he had never been, while the thunder crashed above us and below us everywhere!
"Odin! the Cross has conquered!" Harek cried again, in a voice that was full of triumph; and the blood rushed wildly through me at the thought of what I had seen.