Edmund spent a month on his lands, moving about among his vassals and dwelling in their abodes. He inspired them by his words with fresh spirit and confidence, telling them that this state of things could not last, and that he was going to join the king, who doubtless would soon call them to take part in a fresh effort to drive out their cruel oppressors. Edmund found that although none knew with certainty the hiding-place of King Alfred, it was generally reported that he had taken refuge in the low lands of Somersetshire, and Athelney was specially named as the place which he had made his abode.
"It is a good omen," Edmund said, "for Athelney lies close to the Parrot, where my good ship the Dragon is laid away."
After visiting all the villages in his earldom Edmund started with Egbert and four young men, whom he might use as messengers, for the reported hiding-place of the king. First they visited the Dragon, and found her lying undisturbed; then they followed the river down till they reached the great swamps which extended for a considerable distance near its mouth. After much wandering they came upon the hut of a fisherman. The man on hearing the footsteps came to his door with a bent bow. When he saw that the new-comers were Saxons he lowered the arrow which was already fitted to the string.
"Can you tell us," Edmund said, "which is the way to Athelney? We know that it is an island amidst these morasses, but we are strangers to the locality and cannot find it."
"And you might search for weeks," the man said, "without finding it, so thickly is it surrounded by deep swamps and woods. But what want ye there?"
"Men say," Edmund replied, "that King Alfred is hidden there. We are faithful followers of his. I am Ealdorman Edmund of Sherborne, and have good news for the king."
"If ye are indeed the Ealdorman of Sherborne, of whose bravery I have heard much, I will right willingly lead you to Athelney if you will, but no king will you find there. There are a few fugitives from the Danes scattered here and there in these marshes, but none, so far as I know, of any rank or station. However, I will lead you thither should you still wish to go."
Edmund expressed his desire to visit the island even if the king were not there. The man at once drew out a small boat from a hiding-place near his hut. It would hold four at most. Edmund and Egbert stepped in with one of their followers, charging the others to remain at the hut until they received further instructions. The fisherman with a long pole took his place in the bow of the boat and pushed off. For some hours they made their way through the labyrinth of sluggish and narrow channels of the morass. It was a gloomy journey. The leafless trees frequently met overhead; the long rushes in the wetter parts of the swamp rustled as the cold breezes swept across them, and a slight coating of snow which had fallen the previous night added to the dreary aspect of the scene. At last they came upon sharply rising ground.
"This is Athelney," the fisherman said, "a good hiding-place truly; for, as you see, it rises high over the surrounding country, which is always swampy from the waters of the Parrot and Theme, and at high tides the salt water of the sea fills all these waterways, and the trees rise from a broad sheet of sea. No Dane has ever yet set foot among these marshes; and were there but provisions to keep them alive, a safe refuge might be found on this island for hundreds of fugitives. Will you be returning to-night?"
"That I cannot tell you," Edmund replied; "but at any rate I will hire you and your boat to remain at my service for a week, and will pay you a far higher price than you can obtain by your fishing."
The fisherman readily agreed, and Edmund and his companions made their way into the heart of the island. It was of some extent, and rose above the tree-tops of the surrounding country. Presently they came to a cottage. A man came out.
"What do you seek?" he asked.
"You have fugitives in refuge here," Edmund said. "Know you if among them is our good King Alfred?" The man looked astonished.
"A pretty place to seek for a king!" he replied. "There are a few Saxons in hiding here. Some live by fishing, some chop wood; but for the most part they are an idle and thriftless lot, and methinks have fled hither rather to escape from honest work or to avoid the penalties of crimes than for any other reason."
"How may we find them?" Edmund asked.
"They are scattered over the island. There are eight or ten dwellers here like myself, and several of them have one or more of these fellows with them; others have built huts for themselves and shift as they can; but it is a hard shift, I reckon, and beech-nuts and acorns, eked out with an occasional fish caught in the streams, is all they have to live upon. I wonder that they do not go back to honest work among their kinsfolk."
"Ah!" Edmund said, "you do not know here how cruel are the ravages of the Danes; our homes are broken up and our villages destroyed, and every forest in the land is peopled with fugitive Saxons. Did you know that you would speak less harshly of those here. At any rate the man I seek is young and fair-looking, and would, I should think"—and he smiled as he remembered Alfred's studious habits—"be one of the most shiftless of those here."
"There is such a one," the man replied, "and several times friends of his have been hither to see him. He dwells at my next neighbour's, who is often driven well-nigh out of her mind—for she is a dame with a shrewish tongue and sharp temper—by his inattention. She only asks of him that he will cut wood and keep an eye over her pigs, which wander in the forest, in return for his food; and yet, simple as are his duties, he is for ever forgetting them. I warrant me, the dame would not so long have put up with him had he not been so fair and helpless. However bad-tempered a woman may be, she has always a tender corner in her heart for this sort of fellow. There, you can take this path through the trees and follow it on; it will take you straight to her cottage."
The description given by the man tallied so accurately with that of the king that Edmund felt confident that he was on the right track. The fact, too, that from time to time men had come to see this person added to the probability of his being the king. Presently they came upon the hut. A number of pigs were feeding under the trees around it; the door was open, and the shrill tones of a woman's voice raised in anger could be heard as they approached.
"You are an idle loon, and I will no longer put up with your ways, and you may seek another mistress. You are worse than useless here. I do but ask you to watch these cakes while I go over to speak with my neighbour, and inquire how she and the child born yestereven are getting on, and you go to sleep by the fire and suffer the case to burn.
"You were not asleep, you say? then so much the worse. Where were your eyes, then? And where was your nose? Why, I smelt the cakes a hundred yards away, and you sitting over them, and as you say awake, neither saw them burning nor smelt them! You are enough to break an honest woman's heart with your mooning ways. You are ready enough to eat when the meal-time comes, but are too lazy even to watch the food as it cooks. I tell you I will have no more of you. I have put up with you till I am verily ashamed of my own patience; but this is too much, and you must go your way, for I will have no more of you."
At this moment Edmund and Egbert appeared at the door of the hut. As he had expected from the nature of the colloquy Edmund saw King Alfred standing contrite and ashamed before the angry dame.
"My beloved sovereign!" he cried, running in and falling on his knees.
"My trusted Edmund," Alfred exclaimed cordially, "right glad am I to see you, and you too, my valiant Egbert; truly I feared that the good ship Dragon had long since fallen into the hands of our enemy."
"The Dragon lies not many miles hence, your majesty, in the hole in which she was built, by the river Parrot; she has done bravely and has brought home a rich store of booty, a large share of which has been hidden away for your majesty, and can be brought here in a few hours should you wish it."
"Verily I am glad to hear it, Edmund, for I have long been penniless; and I have great need of something at least to pay this good woman for all the trouble she has been at with me, and for her food which my carelessness has destroyed, as you may have heard but now."
Edmund and Egbert joined in the king's merry laugh. The dame looked a picture of consternation and fell upon her knees.
"Pardon me, your majesty," she cried; "to think that I have ventured to abuse our good King Alfred, and have even in mine anger lifted my hand against him!"
"And with right good-will too," the king said laughing. "Never fear, good dame, your tongue has been rough but your heart has been kindly, or never would you have borne so long with so shiftless a serving-man. But leave us now, I pray ye, for I have much to say to my good friends here. And now, Edmund, what news do you bring? I do not ask after the doings of the Dragon, for that no doubt is a long story which you shall tell me later, but how fares it with my kingdom? I have been in correspondence with several of my thanes, who have from time to time sent me news of what passes without. From what they say I deem that the time for action is at last nigh at hand. The people are everywhere desperate at the oppression and exactions of the Danes, and are ready to risk everything to free themselves from so terrible a yoke. I fled here and gave up the strife because the Saxons deemed anything better than further resistance. Now that they have found out their error it is time to be stirring again."
"That is so," Edmund said; "Egbert and I have found the people desperate at their slavery, and ready to risk all did a leader but appear. My own people will all take up arms the instant they receive my summons; they have before now proved their valour, and in my crew of the Dragon you have a body which will, I warrant me, pierce through any Danish line."
"This tallies with what I have heard," Alfred said, "and in the spring I will again raise my banner; but in the meantime I will fortify this place. There are but two or three spots where boats can penetrate through the morasses; were strong stockades and banks erected at each landing-place we might hold the island in case of defeat against any number of the enemy."
"That shall be done," Edmund said, "and quickly. I have a messenger here with me, and others waiting outside the swamp, and can send and bring my crew of the Dragon here at once."
"Let that be one man's mission," the king said; "the others I will send off with messages to the thanes of Somerset, who are only awaiting my summons to take up arms. I will bid them send hither strong working parties, but to make no show in arms until Easter, at which time I will again spread the Golden Dragon to the winds. The treasure you speak of will be right welcome, for all are so impoverished by the Danes that they live but from hand to mouth, and we must at least buy provisions to maintain the parties working here. Arms, too, must be made, for although many have hidden their weapons, the Danes have seized vast quantities, having issued an order that any Saxon found with arms shall be at once put to death. Money will be needed to set all the smithies to work at the manufacture of pikes and swords. Hides must be bought for the manufacture of shields. It will be best to send orders to the ealdormen and thanes to send hither privately the smiths, armourers, and shield-makers in the villages and towns. They cannot work with the Danes ever about, but must set up smithies here. They must bring their tools and such iron as they can carry; what more is required we must buy at the large towns and bring privately in carts to the edge of the morass. The utmost silence and secrecy must be observed, that the Danes may obtain no news of our preparations until we are ready to burst out upon them."
A fortnight later Athelney presented a changed appearance. A thousand men were gathered there. Trees had been cut down, a strong fort erected on the highest ground, and formidable works constructed at three points where alone a landing could be effected. The smoke rose from a score of great mounds, where charcoal-burners were converting timber into fuel for the forges. Fifty smiths and armourers were working vigorously at forges in the open air, roofs thatched with rushes and supported by poles being erected over them to keep the rain and snow from the fires. A score of boats were threading the mazes of the marshes bringing men and cattle to the island. All was bustle and activity, every face shone with renewed hope. King Alfred himself and his thanes moved to and fro among the workers encouraging them at their labours.
Messengers came and went in numbers, and from all parts of Wessex King Alfred received news of the joy which his people felt at the tidings that he was again about to raise his standard, and of the readiness of all to obey his summons. So well was the secret kept that no rumour of the storm about to burst upon them reached the Danes. The people, rejoicing and eager as they were, suffered no evidence of their feelings to be apparent to their cruel masters, who, believing the Saxons to be finally crushed, were lulled into a false security. The king's treasure had been brought from its hiding-place to Athelney, and Edmund and Egbert had also handed over their own share of the booty to the king. The golden cups and goblets he had refused to take, but had gladly accepted the silver.
Edmund and Egbert had left Athelney for a few days on a mission. The king had described to them minutely where he had hidden the sacred standard with the Golden Dragon. It was in the hut of a charcoal-burner in the heart of the forests of Wiltshire. Upon reaching the hut, and showing to the man the king's signet-ring, which when leaving the standard he had told him would be the signal that any who might come for it were sent by him, the man produced the standard from the thatch of his cottage, in which it was deeply buried, and hearing that it was again to be unfurled called his two stalwart sons from their work and at once set out with Edmund and Egbert to join the army.
Easter came and went, but the preparations were not yet completed. A vast supply of arms was needed, and while the smiths laboured at their work Edmund and Egbert drilled the fighting men who had assembled, in the tactics which had on a small scale proved so effective. The wedge shape was retained, and Edmund's own band claimed the honour of forming the apex, but it had now swollen until it contained a thousand men, and as it moved in a solid body, with its thick edge of spears outward, the king felt confident that it would be able to break through the strongest line of the Danes.
From morning till night Edmund and Egbert, assisted by the thanes of Somerset who had gathered there, drilled the men and taught them to rally rapidly from scattered order into solid formation. Unaccustomed to regular tactics the ease and rapidity with which these movements came to be carried out at the notes of Edmund's bugle seemed to all to be little less than miraculous, and they awaited with confidence and eagerness their meeting with the Danes on the field.
At the end of April messengers were sent out bidding the Saxons hold themselves in readiness, and on the 6th of May Alfred moved with his force from Athelney to Egbertesstan (now called Brixton), lying to the east of the forest of Selwood, which lay between Devonshire and Somerset. The Golden Dragon had been unfurled. On the fort in Athelney, and after crossing the marshes to the mainland it was carried in the centre of the phalanx.
On the 12th they reached the appointed place, where they found a great multitude of Saxons already gathered. They had poured in from Devonshire, Somerset, and Wiltshire, from Dorset and Hants. In spite of the vigorous edicts of the Danes against arms a great proportion of them bore weapons, which had been buried in the earth, or concealed in hollow trees or other hiding-places until the time for action should again arrive.
As they saw the king approaching at the head of his band, with the Golden Dragon fluttering in the breeze, a great shout of joy arose from the multitude, and they crowded round the monarch with shouts of welcome at his reappearance among them, and with vows to die rather than again to yield to the tyranny of the Northmen. The rest of the day was spent in distributing the newly fashioned arms to those who needed them, and in arranging the men in bands under their own thanes, or, in their absence, such leaders as the king appointed.
Upon the following morning the army started, marching in a north-easterly direction against the great camp of the Danes at Chippenham. That night they rested at Okeley, and then marched on until in the afternoon they came within sight of the Danes gathered at Ethandune, a place supposed to be identical with Edington near Westbury.
As the time for Alfred's reappearance approached the agitation and movement on the part of the people had attracted the attention of the Danes, and the news of his summons to the Saxons to meet him at Egbertesstan having come to their ears, they gathered hastily from all parts under Guthorn their king, who was by far the most powerful viking who had yet appeared in England, and who ruled East Anglia as well as Wessex. Confident of victory the great Danish army beheld the approach of the Saxons. Long accustomed to success, and superior in numbers, they regarded with something like contempt the approach of their foes.
In the centre Alfred placed the trained phalanx which had accompanied him from Athelney, in the centre of which waved the Golden Dragon, by whose side he placed himself. Its command he left in the hands of Edmund, he himself directing the general movements of the force. On his right were the men of Somerset and Hants; on the left those of Wilts, Dorset, and Devon.
His orders were that the advance was to be made with regularity; that the whole line were to fight for a while on the defensive, resisting the onslaught of the Danes until he gave the word for the central phalanx to advance and burst through the lines of the enemy, and that when these had been thrown into confusion by this attack the flanks were to charge forward and complete the rout. This plan was carried out. The Danes advanced with their usual impetuosity, and for hours tried to break through the lines of the Saxon spears. Both sides fought valiantly, the Danes inspired by their pride in their personal prowess and their contempt for the Saxons; the Saxons by their hatred for their oppressors, and their determination to die rather than again submit to their bondage. At length, after the battle had raged some hours, and both parties were becoming wearied from their exertions, the king gave Edmund the order.
Hitherto his men had fought in line with the rest; but at the sound of his bugle they quitted their places, and, ere the Danes could understand the meaning of this sudden movement, had formed themselves into their wedge, raised a mighty shout, and advanced against the enemy. The onslaught was irresistible. The great wedge, with its thick fringe of spears, burst its way straight through the Danish centre carrying all before it. Then at another note of Edmund's bugle it broke up into two bodies, which moved solidly to the right and left, crumpling up the Danish lines.
Alfred now gave the order for a general advance, and the Saxon ranks, with a shout of triumph, flung themselves upon the disordered Danes. Their success was instant and complete. Confounded at the sudden break up of their line, bewildered by these new and formidable tactics, attacked in front and in flank, the Danes broke and fled. The Saxons pursued them hotly, Edmund keeping his men well together in case the Danes should rally. Their rout, however, was too complete; vast numbers were slain, and the remnant of their army did not pause until they found themselves within the shelter of their camp at Chippenham.
No quarter was given by the Saxons to those who fell into their hands, and pressing upon the heels of the flying Danes the victorious army of King Alfred sat down before Chippenham. Every hour brought fresh reinforcements to the king's standard. Many were already on their way when the battle was fought; and as the news of the victory spread rapidly every man of the West Saxons capable of bearing arms made for Chippenham, feeling that now or never must a complete victory over the Danes be obtained.
No assault was made upon the Danish camp. Confident in his now vastly superior numbers, and in the enthusiasm which reigned in his army, Alfred was unwilling to waste a single life in an attack upon the entrenchments, which must ere long surrender from famine. There was no risk of reinforcements arriving to relieve the Danes. Guthorn had led to the battle the whole fighting force of the Danes in Wessex and East Anglia. This was far smaller than it would have been a year earlier; but the Northmen, having once completed their work of pillage, soon turned to fresh fields of adventure. Those whose disposition led them to prefer a quiet life had settled upon the land from which they had dispossessed the Saxons; but the principal bands of rovers, finding that England was exhausted and that no more plunder could be had, had either gone back to enjoy at home the booty they had gained, or had sailed to harry the shores of France, Spain, and Italy.
Thus the position of the Danes in Chippenham was desperate, and at the end of fourteen days, by which time they were reduced to an extremity by hunger, they sent messengers into the royal camp offering their submission. They promised if spared to quit the kingdom with all speed, and to observe this contract more faithfully than those which they had hitherto made and broken. They offered the king as many hostages as he might wish to take for the fulfilment of their promises. The haggard and emaciated condition of those who came out to treat moved Alfred to pity.
So weakened were they by famine that they could scarce drag themselves along. It would have been easy for the Saxons to have slain them to the last man; and the majority of the Saxons, smarting under the memory of the cruel oppression which they had suffered, the destruction of home and property, and the slaughter of friends and relations, would fain have exterminated their foes. King Alfred, however, thought otherwise.
Guthorn and the Danes had effected a firm settlement in East Anglia, and lived at amity with the Saxons there. They had, it is true, wrested from them the greatest portion of their lands. Still peace and order were now established. The Saxons were allowed liberty and equal rights. Intermarriages were taking place, and the two peoples were becoming welded into one. Alfred then considered that it would be well to have the king of this country as an ally; he and his settled people would soon be as hostile to further incursions of the Northmen as were the Saxons themselves, and their interests and those of Wessex would be identical.
Did he, on the other hand, carry out a general massacre of the Danes now in his power he might have brought upon England a fresh invasion of Northmen, who, next to plunder, loved revenge, and who might come over in great hosts to avenge the slaughter of their countrymen. Moved, then, by motives of policy as well as by compassion, he granted the terms they asked, and hostages having been sent in from the camp he ordered provisions to be supplied to the Danes.
The same night a messenger of rank came in from Guthorn saying that he intended to embrace Christianity. The news filled Alfred and the Saxons with joy. The king, a sincere and devoted Christian, had fought as much for his religion as for his kingdom, and his joy at the prospect of Guthorn's conversion, which would as a matter of course be followed by that of his subjects, was deep and sincere.
To the Saxons generally the temporal consequence of the conversion had no doubt greater weight than the spiritual. The conversion of Guthorn and the Danes would be a pledge far more binding than any oaths of alliance between the two kingdoms. Guthorn and his followers would be viewed with hostility by their countrymen, whose hatred of Christianity was intense, and East Anglia would, therefore, naturally seek the close alliance and assistance of its Christian neighbour.
Great were the rejoicings in the Saxon camp that night. Seldom, indeed, has a victory had so great and decisive an effect upon the future of a nation as that of Ethandune. Had the Saxons been crushed, the domination of the Danes in England would have been finally settled. Christianity would have been stamped out, and with it civilization, and the island would have made a backward step into paganism and barbarism which might have delayed her progress for centuries.
The victory established the freedom of Wessex, converted East Anglia into a settled and Christian country, and enabled King Alfred to frame the wise laws and statutes and to establish on a firm basis the institutions which raised Saxon England vastly in the scale of civilization, and have in no small degree affected the whole course of life of the English people.
Seven weeks afterwards Guthorn, accompanied by thirty of his noblest warriors, entered Alfred's camp, which was pitched at Aller, a place not far from Athelney. An altar was erected and a solemn service performed, and Guthorn and his companions were all baptized, Alfred himself becoming sponsor for Guthorn, whose name was changed to Athelstan. The Danes remained for twelve days in the Saxon camp. For the first eight they wore, in accordance with the custom of the times, the chrismal, a white linen cloth put on the head when the rite of baptism was performed; on the eighth day the solemn ceremony known as the chrism, the loosing or removal of the cloths, took place at Wedmore. This was performed by the Ealdorman Ethelnoth.
During these twelve days many conferences were held between Alfred and Athelstan as to the future of the two kingdoms. While the Danes were still in the camp a witenagemot or Saxon parliament was held at Wedmore. At this Athelstan and many of the nobles and inhabitants of East Anglia were present, and the boundary of the two kingdoms was settled. It was to commence at the mouth of the Thames, to run along the river Lea to its source, and at Bedford turn to the right along the Ouse as far as Watling Street. According to this arrangement a considerable portion of the kingdom of Mercia fell to Alfred's share.
The treaty comprehended various rules for the conduct of commerce, and courts were instituted for the trial of disputes and crimes. The Danes did not at once leave Mercia, but for a considerable time lay in camp at Cirencester; but all who refused to become Christians were ordered to depart beyond the seas, and the Danes gradually withdrew within their boundary.
Guthorn's conversion, although no doubt brought about at the moment by his admiration of the clemency of Alfred, had probably been for some time projected by him. Mingling as his people did in East Anglia with the Christian Saxons there, he must have had opportunities for learning the nature of their tenets, and of contrasting its mild and beneficent teaching with the savage worship of the pagan gods. By far the greater proportion of his people followed their king's example; but the wilder spirits quitted the country, and under their renowned leader Hasting sailed to harry the shores of France. The departure of the more turbulent portion of his followers rendered it more easy for the Danish king to carry his plans into effect.
After the holding of the witan Edmund and Egbert at once left the army with their followers, and for some months the young ealdorman devoted himself to the work of restoring the shattered homes of his people, aiding them with loans from the plunder he had gained on the seas, Alfred having at once repaid him the sums which he had lent at Athelney. As so many of his followers had also brought home money after their voyage, the work of rebuilding and restoration went on rapidly, and in a few months the marks left of the ravages by the Danes had been well-nigh effaced.
Flocks and herds again grazed in the pastures, herds of swine roamed in the woods, the fields were cultivated, and the houses rebuilt. In no part of Wessex was prosperity so speedily re-established as in the district round Sherborne governed by Edmund. The Dragon was thoroughly overhauled and repaired, for none could say how soon fresh fleets of the Northmen might make their appearance upon the southern shores of England. It was not long, indeed, before the Northmen reappeared, a great fleet sailing up the Thames at the beginning of the winter. It ascended as high as Fulham, where a great camp was formed. Seeing that the Saxons and East Anglians would unite against them did they advance further, the Danes remained quietly in their encampment during the winter, and in the spring again took ship and sailed for France.
For the next two years England enjoyed comparative quiet, the Danes turning their attention to France and Holland, sailing up the Maas, Scheldt, Somme, and Seine. Spreading from these rivers they carried fire and sword over a great extent of country. The Franks resisted bravely, and in two pitched battles defeated their invaders with great loss. The struggle going on across the Channel was watched with great interest by the Saxons, who at first hoped to see the Danes completely crushed by the Franks.
The ease, however, with which the Northmen moved from point to point in their ships gave them such immense advantage that their defeats at Hasle and Saucourt in no way checked their depredations. Appearing suddenly off the coast, or penetrating into the interior by a river, their hordes would land, ravage the country, slay all who opposed them, and carry off the women and children captives, and would then take to their ships again before the leaders of the Franks could assemble an army.
Alfred spent this time of repose in restoring as far as possible the loss and damage which his kingdom had suffered. Many wise laws were passed, churches were rebuilt, and order restored; great numbers of the monks and wealthier people who had fled to France in the days of the Danish supremacy now returned to England, which was for the time freer from danger than the land in which they had sought refuge; and many Franks from the districts exposed to the Danish ravages came over and settled in England.
Gradually the greater part of England acknowledged the rule of Alfred. The kingdom of Kent was again united to that of Wessex; while Mercia, which extended across the centre of England from Anglia to Wales, was governed for Alfred by Ethelred the Ealdorman, who was the head of the powerful family of the Hwiccas, and had received the hand of Alfred's daughter Ethelfleda. He ruled Mercia according to its own laws and customs, which differed materially from those of the West Saxons, and which prevented a more perfect union of the two kingdoms until William the Conqueror welded the whole country into a single whole. But Ethelred acknowledged the supremacy of Alfred, consulted him upon all occasions of importance, and issued all his edicts and orders in the king's name. He was ably assisted by Werfrith, the Bishop of Worcester. The energy and activity of these leaders enabled Mercia to keep abreast of Wessex in the onward progress which Alfred laboured so indefatigably to promote.
Edmund, when not occupied with the affairs of his earldom, spent much of his time with the king, who saw in him a spirit of intelligence and activity which resembled his own. Edmund was, however, of a less studious disposition than his royal master; and though he so far improved his education as to be able to read and write well, Alfred could not persuade him to undertake the study of Latin, being, as he said, well content to master some of the learning of that people by means of the king's translations.
At the end of another two years of peace Edmund was again called upon to take up arms. Although the Danes attempted no fresh invasion some of their ships hung around the English coast, capturing vessels, interfering with trade, and committing other acts of piracy.
Great complaints were made by the inhabitants of the seaports to Alfred. The king at once begged Edmund to fit out the Dragon, and collecting a few other smaller ships he took his place on Edmund's ship and sailed in search of the Danes. After some search they came upon the four large ships of the Northmen which had been a scourge to the coast.
The Saxons at once engaged them, and a desperate fight took place. The Dragon was laid alongside the largest of the Danish vessels; and the king, with Edmund and Egbert by his side, leapt on to the deck of the Danish vessel, followed by the crew of the Dragon. The Danish ship was crowded with men who fought desperately, but the discipline even more than the courage of Edmund's crew secured for them the victory. For a time each fought for himself; and although inspired by the presence of the king they were able to gain no advantage, being much out-numbered by the Northmen.
Edmund, seeing this, sounded on his horn the signal with which in battle he ordered the men to form their wedge. The signal was instantly obeyed. The Saxons were all fighting with boarding-pikes against the Northmen's swords and axes, for they had become used to these weapons and preferred them to any other.
The instant Edmund's horn was heard, each man desisted from fighting and rushed to their leader, around whom they instantly formed in their accustomed order. The Danes, astonished at the sudden cessation of the battle, and understanding nothing of the meaning of the signal or of the swift movement of the Saxons, for a minute lowered their weapons in surprise.
Before they again rushed forward the formation was complete, and in a close body with levelled spears the Saxons advanced, Egbert as usual leading the way, with Edmund and the king in the centre.
In vain the Danes strove to resist the onset; in spite of their superior numbers they were driven back step by step until crowded in a close mass at one end.
Still the Saxon line of spears pressed on. Many of the Danes leapt into the sea, others were pushed over or run through, and in a few minutes not a Northman remained alive in the captured vessel.
In the meantime the battle was raging in other parts. Two of the small vessels were engaged with one of the Danes at close quarters, while the other ships hung around the remaining Danish vessels and kept up volleys of arrows and javelins upon them.
The Dragon at once went to the assistance of the two Saxon ships, whose crews were almost overpowered by the Northmen. Laying the ship alongside, Edmund boarded the Danes. The Northmen rushed back from the decks of the Saxon ship to defend their own vessel; and the Saxons, regaining courage, at once rallied and followed them. The combat was short but desperate. Attacked on three sides, the Danes were speedily overcome and were slaughtered to a man.
An attack was next made upon the two remaining vessels. These resisted for some time, but they were overwhelmed by the missiles from the Saxon flotilla; and the greater portion of their crews being killed or wounded, their commanders prayed for mercy, which was granted them by Alfred; and with the four captured vessels the fleet returned to England.
On reaching port Alfred begged Edmund to continue for a while with the Dragon, to cruise along the coasts and to stop the depredations of the Danes; and for some weeks the Dragon kept the seas. She met with considerable success, capturing many Danish galleys. Some of these contained rich spoil, which had been gathered in France, for cruising in the seas off Dover Edmund intercepted many of the Danish vessels on their homeward way from raids up the Seine, Garonne, and other French rivers.
One day in the excitement of a long pursuit of a Danish galley, which finally succeeded in making her escape, Edmund had paid less attention than usual to the weather, and, on giving up the chase as hopeless, perceived that the sky had become greatly overcast, while the wind was rising rapidly.
"We are in for a storm from the north, Egbert," he said, "and we must make for the mouth of the Thames for shelter."
The sails were lowered, and the Dragon's head turned west. Before two hours had passed the sea had risen so greatly that it was no longer possible to row.
"What had we best do?" Edmund asked the chief of the sailors. "Think you that we can make Dover and shelter under the cliffs there?"
"I fear that we cannot do so," the sailor replied, "for there are terrible sands and shallows off the Kentish coast between the mouth of the Thames and Dover, and the wind blows so strongly that we can do nought but run before it."
"Then let us do so," Edmund replied; "anything is better than being tossed at the mercy of the waves."
A sail was hoisted, and the Dragon flew along before the wind. The storm increased in fury, and for some hours the vessel ran before it. She was but a short distance from the French coast, and as the wind veered round more to the west her danger became great.
"I fear we shall be cast ashore," Edmund said to the sailor.
"Fortunately," the man answered, "we are but a mile or two from the mouth of the Seine, and there we can run in and take shelter."
It was an anxious time until they reached the mouth of the river, for they were continually drifting nearer and nearer to the coast. However, they cleared the point in safety, and, turning her head, ran up the river and soon anchored under the walls of Havre. As she came to an anchor armed men were seen crowding the walls.
"They take us for Danes," Egbert said. "We had best hoist the Dragon, and they will then know that we are a Saxon ship."
Soon after the flag was hoisted the gates of the town were seen to open, and an officer and some men issued out. These launched a boat and rowed out to the ship. The officer mounted to the deck. He was evidently in considerable fear, but as he saw the Saxons standing about unarmed he was reassured. "Is this really a Saxon ship," he asked, "as its flag testifies?"
"It is so," Edmund replied; "it is my vessel, and I am an ealdorman of King Alfred. We have been chasing the Danish pirates, but this storm having arisen, we were blown down the French coast and forced to seek shelter here."
"The governor bids you welcome," the officer said, "and bade me invite you to land."
"That will I gladly; the more so since my ship has suffered some damage in the gale, her bulwarks having been partly shattered; and it will need a stay of a few days here to repair her for sea. Will you tell the governor that in a short time I will land with my kinsman Egbert and accept his hospitality?"
An hour later Edmund and Egbert landed and were at once conducted to the governor, who welcomed them cordially.
They found there many whom they had known at the court of King Alfred. The wealthier men, the bishops and thanes, had for the most part journeyed to Paris or to other towns in the interior to escape the dreaded Northmen; but there were many detained at Havre from want of funds to journey farther.
"It is a sad pity," the governor said as they talked over the troubled state of Western Europe, "that your English king and our Frankish monarch did not make common cause against these sea robbers. They are the enemies of mankind. Not only do they ravage all our coasts, but they have entered the Mediterranean, and have plundered and ravaged the coasts of Provence and Italy, laying towns under ransom, burning and destroying."
"I would that I could meet some of their ships on their way back from Italy," Edmund said. "I warrant that we should obtain a rare booty, with gems of art such as would delight King Alfred, but are thrown away on these barbarians; but I agree with you that 'tis shameful that the coasts of all Europe should be overrun with these pirates."
"Yes," the governor replied, "if every country in Christendom would unite against their common foe, and send a quota of ships and men, we would drive the Black Raven from the seas, and might even land on the Danish shores and give them a taste of the suffering they have inflicted elsewhere. As it is, all seem paralysed. Local efforts are made to resist them; but their numbers are too great to be thus withstood. I wonder that the pope does not call Christendom to arms against these pagan robbers, who not only destroy towns and villages, but level to the ground the holy shrines, and slay the ministers of God on the altars."
On the following morning Edmund, who had returned to his ship to sleep, was aroused by loud shouts on deck. Hurrying from his cabin he saw a vast fleet of ships approaching the mouth of the river. They were of all sizes—from great sailing ships to rowing galleys. It needed but a glance at them to assure him that they were the dreaded ships of the Northmen, for the Black Raven floated at many of the mast-heads.
From the town the sounds of horns and great shoutings could be heard, showing that there too the approaching fleet had just been discerned as the morning fog lifted from the sea. Edmund held a hurried consultation with his kinsman. It was now too late to gain the sea, for the Danish ships had already reached the mouth of the river. To attempt to escape by fighting would be madness, and they hesitated only whether to run the ship ashore, and, leaving her there, enter the town and share in its defence, or to proceed up the river with all speed to Rouen, or even to Paris.
The latter course was decided upon, for the Danish ships would contain so vast a number of men that there was little hope that Havre could resist their attack, nor was it likely that Rouen, which, on the previous year had been captured and sacked, would even attempt another resistance, which would only bring massacre and ruin upon its inhabitants. Paris alone, the capital of the Frankish kings, seemed to offer a refuge. The deliberation was a short one, and by the time the men had taken their places at the oars their leaders had decided upon their course.
The anchor ropes were cut, for not a moment was to be lost, the leading ships of the Danes being already less than half a mile distant. The tide was flowing, and the Dragon swept rapidly up the river. Some of the Danish galleys followed for a while, but seeing that the Dragon had the speed of them, they abandoned the pursuit, and at a more easy stroke the rowers continued their work until they reached Rouen. Here the tide failed them, and they moored against the bank under the walls.
Edmund and Egbert went on shore. They found the city in a state of wild confusion. Saying that they had important news, and must see the governor, they were led to the council-chamber, where the leading men of the town were assembled. After stating who he and his companion were, Edmund announced the arrival of a great Danish fleet at the mouth of the river.
"Your news, sir, is terrible for our poor country," the governor said, "but to us it scarce brings any additional horror, although it will probably decide the question which we are engaged in discussing. We have news here that a great Danish army which landed at Abbeville is marching hitherward, and we are met to discuss whether the town should resist to the last or should open its gates at their approach. This news you bring of the arrival of a fresh army of these sea robbers at Havre renders our case desperate. So fierce is their attack that we could hardly hope successfully to resist the approaching army, but against it and this fleet you tell us of resistance could only bring about our utter destruction. That, at least, is my opinion, the other members of the council must speak for themselves."
The other members, who were the principal merchants and traders of the town, were unanimously of the same opinion.
"Better," they said, "to give up all our worldly goods to the Northmen than to be slaughtered pitilessly with our wives and families."
"Such being your decision," Edmund said, "my kinsman and myself will proceed up the river to Paris; hitherto, as we hear, the Northmen have not ventured to attack that city, and should they do so, it will doubtless resist to the last."
Accordingly the two Saxons returned at once to the Dragon, and as soon as the tide turned unmoored and proceeded up the river. Three days after leaving Rouen they arrived in sight of Paris. The capital of the Franks was but a small city, and was built entirely upon the island situated just at the confluence of the Seine and Marne. It was surrounded by a strong and lofty wall.
On the approach of a vessel differing entirely from anything they had before seen the citizens flocked to the walls. The Golden Dragon floating at the mast-head showed them that the vessel did not belong to the Danes, and some of the more experienced in these matters said at once that she must be a Saxon ship. The Count Eudes, who had been left by the king in command of Paris, himself came to the walls just as the Dragon came abreast of them. Edmund ordered the rowers to pause at their work.
"Who are you?" the Count Eudes shouted. "Whence do you come and with what intent?"
"My name is Edmund. I am an ealdorman of King Alfred of the Saxons. When at sea fighting the Northmen a tempest blew me down your coast, and I took refuge in the port of Havre. Four days since at daybreak a vast fleet of Northmen entered the river. We rowed up to Rouen hoping to be able to find safe shelter there; but the citizens being aware that a great army of the sea robbers was marching against their town, and being further intimidated by the news I brought them, decided upon surrendering without resistance. Therefore we have continued our journey hither, being assured that here at least the Danish wolves would not have their way unopposed. We have fought them long in our native land, and wish for nothing better than to aid in the efforts of the Franks against our common enemy."
"You are welcome, sir earl," the Count Eudes said, "though the news you bring us is bad indeed. We have heard how valiantly the thanes of King Alfred have fought against the invaders, and shall be glad indeed of your assistance should the Northmen, as I fear, come hither."
So saying the count ordered the gates to be opened, and the Dragon having been moored alongside, Edmund and Egbert with their crew entered the town, where the leaders were received with great honour by the count. He begged them to become guests at the castle, where quarters were also assigned to the crew. A banquet was at once prepared, at which many of the principal citizens were present.
As soon as the demands of hunger were satisfied the count made further inquiries as to the size of the fleet which had entered the Seine, and as to the army reported to be marching against Rouen.
"I doubt not," he said, when the Saxons had given him all the particulars in their power, "that it is the armament of Siegfroi who has already wrought such destruction. More than once he has appeared before our walls, and has pillaged and ravaged the whole of the north of France. The last time he was here he threatened to return with a force which would suffice to raze Paris to the ground, and doubtless he is coming to endeavour to carry out his threat; but he will not find the task an easy one, we shall resist him to the last; and right glad am I that I shall have the assistance of two of the Saxon thanes who have so often inflicted heavy defeats upon these wolves of the sea. Your vessel is a strange one, and differs from those that I have hitherto seen, either Dane or Saxon. She is a sailing ship, and yet appears to row very fast."
"She is built," Edmund said, "partly upon the design of King Alfred himself, which were made from paintings he possessed of the war galleys of Italy, which country he visited in his youth. They were carried out by a clever shipwright of Exeter; and, indeed, the ship sails as well as she rows, and, as the Danes have discovered to their cost, is able to fight as well as she can sail and row. Had we been fairly out to sea before the Danish fleet made its appearance we could have given a good account of ourselves, but we were caught in a trap."
"I fear that if the Northmen surround the city your ship will be destroyed."
"I was thinking of that," Edmund said, "and I pray you to let me have some men who know the river higher up. There must assuredly be low shores often overflowed where there are wide swamps covered with wood and thickets, which the enemy would not enter, seeing that no booty could be obtained there. The ship was built in such a spot, and we could cut a narrow gap from the river and float her well in among the trees so as to be hidden from the sight of any passing up the river in galleys, closing up the cut again so that none might suspect its existence."
"That could be done easily enough," the count said; "there are plenty of spots which would be suitable, for the banks are for the most part low and the ground around swampy and wooded. To-morrow I will tell off a strong body of men to accompany you in your ship, and aid your crew in their work."
Twenty miles up the Seine a suitable spot was found, and the crew of the Dragon, with the hundred men whom the Count Eudes had lent for the purpose, at once set about their work. They had but little trouble, for a spot was chosen where a sluggish stream, some fifteen feet wide, drained the water from a wide-spreading swamp into the river. The channel needed widening but a little to allow of the Dragon entering, and the water was quite deep enough to permit her being taken some three hundred yards back from the river.
The trees and underwood were thick, and Edmund was assured that even when winter, which was now approaching, stripped the last leaf from the trees, the Dragon could not be seen from the river. Her masts were lowered, and bundles of brushwood were hung along her side so as to prevent the gleam of black paint being discerned through the trees.
The entrance to the stream was filled up to a width of three or four feet, and the new work turfed with coarse grass similar to that which grew beside it. Bushes were planted close to the water's edge, and stakes were driven down in the narrow channel to within a few inches of the surface of the water.
Certain now that no Danish boats would be likely to turn aside from the river to enter this channel into the swamp, the party embarked in some boats which had been towed up by the Dragon and returned down the river to Paris.
The afternoon before starting all the valuable booty which had been captured from the Danes was landed and placed in security in the castle, and upon his return to Paris Edmund disposed of this at good prices to the traders of the city.
A fortnight after they had returned to Paris the news was brought in that a vast fleet of Northmen was ascending the river. The next morning it was close at hand, and the citizens mounting the walls beheld with consternation the approaching armament. So numerous were the ships that they completely covered the river. The fleet consisted of seven hundred sailing ships, and a vastly greater number of rowing galleys and boats. These vessels were crowded with men, and their fierce aspect, their glittering arms, and their lofty stature, spread terror in the hearts of the citizens.
"This is truly a tremendous host!" the Count Eudes said to Edmund, who stood beside him on the walls.
"It is indeed," Edmund replied. "Numerous as are the fleets which have poured down upon the shores of England, methinks that none approached this in strength. It is clear that the Northmen have united their forces for a great effort against this city; but having at home successfully defended fortifications, which were not to be named in comparison with those of Paris, against them, I see no reason to doubt that we shall be able to beat them off here."
The Danes landed on the opposite bank and formed a vast camp there, and the following morning three of their number in a small boat rowed across the river and said that their king Siegfroi desired to speak with Goslin, archbishop of Paris, who stood in the position of civil governor. They were told that the archbishop would receive the king in his palace.
An hour later a stately figure in glittering armour was seen to take his place in a long galley, which, rowed by twenty men, quickly shot across the stream. Siegfroi landed, and, accompanied by four of his leading warriors, entered the gates, which were opened at his approach. The chief of the Northmen was a warrior of lofty stature. On his head he wore a helmet of gold, on whose crest was a raven with extended wings wrought in the same metal. His hair fell loosely on his neck; his face was clean shaved in Danish fashion, save for a long moustache. He wore a breastplate of golden scales, and carried a shield of the toughest bull's-hide studded with gold nails.
He was unarmed, save a long dagger which he wore in his belt. He and his followers, who were all men of immense stature, walked with a proud and assured air between the lines of citizens who clustered thickly on each side of the street, and who gazed in silence at these dreaded figures. They were escorted by the chamberlain of the archbishop, and on arriving at his palace were conducted into the chamber where Goslin, Count Eudes, and several of the leading persons of Paris awaited them.
Siegfroi bent his head before the prelate.
"Goslin," he said, "I beg you to have compassion upon yourself and your flock if you do not wish to perish. We beseech you to turn a favourable ear to our words. Grant only that we shall march through the city. We will touch nothing in the town, and we undertake to preserve all your property, both yours and that of Eudes."
The archbishop replied at once:
"This city has been confided to us by the Emperor Charles, who is, after God, the king and master of the powers of the earth. Holding under his rule almost all the world, he confided it to us, with the assurance that we should suffer no harm to come to the kingdom, but should keep it for him safe and sure. If it had happened that the defence of these walls had been committed to your hands, as it has been committed to mine, what would you have done had such a demand been made upon you? Would you have granted the demand?"
"If I had granted it," Siegfroi replied, "may my head fall under the axe and serve as food for dogs. Nevertheless, if you do not grant our demands, by day we will overwhelm your city with our darts, and with poisoned arrows by night. You shall suffer all the horrors of hunger, and year after year we will return and make a ruin of your city."
Without another word he turned, and followed by his companions, strode through the streets of Paris, and taking his place in the boat returned to his camp.
At daybreak the next morning the Norsemen were seen crowding into their ships. The trumpets sounded loudly, and the citizens seized their arms and hastened to the walls. The Norsemen crossed the river, and directed their attack against a tower which stood at the head of the bridge connecting the city and island with the farther bank. Those who landed were provided with picks, crowbars, and other implements for effecting a breach, and their approach was protected by a cloud of arrows and javelins from the fleet which covered the surface of the river.
The French leaders soon assembled at the threatened point. Chief among these were Eudes, his brother Robert, the Count Ragenaire, and the Abbe Ebble, a nephew of the archbishop. The Franks bore themselves bravely, and in spite of the rain of arrows defended the walls against the desperate attacks of the Northmen.
The fortifications in those days were very far from having attained the strength and solidity which a few generations later were bestowed upon them. The stones of which they were constructed were comparatively small, and fastened together by mortar, consequently they could ill resist even an assault by manual weapons. Covered by their shields the Northmen worked untiringly at the foundations, and piece by piece the walls crumbled to the ground. Every effort, however, to enter at the breaches so made was repulsed, and Siegfroi kept back his warriors, determined to delay the grand assault until the next day. By nightfall the tower was in ruins, scarce a portion of the walls remaining erect. Many of the besieged had been killed. The archbishop was wounded with an arrow. Frederic, a young soldier who led the troops of the church was killed.
The besiegers had suffered much more severely, great numbers having been killed by the stones and missiles hurled down by the defenders while engaged in the demolition of the walls. At nightfall the Danes carried off their wounded and recrossed the river, confident that next day they would succeed in their assault. As soon as darkness had set in Count Eudes collected the citizens, and these, bearing beams and planks, crossed the bridge to the tower, and set to work. Outside the circle of ruins holes were dug and the beams securely fixed. Planks were nailed to these, and earth heaped up behind them.
All night the work continued, and by morning a fortification much higher than the original tower had been erected all round the ruin. The Danes again crossed the river in their ships, and the assault was renewed. Javelins and great stones were hurled at the fortification, and clouds of arrows from the shipping fell within them. Covered with portable roofs constructed of planks the Danes strove to destroy the wall. The besieged poured upon them a blazing mixture of oil, wax, and pitch. Numbers of the Danes were burned to death, while others, maddened by the pain, threw themselves into the river.
Over and over again Siegfroi led his warriors to the attack, but the defenders, headed by Eudes and the brave Abbe Ebble, each time repelled them. The abbe particularly distinguished himself, and he is reported to have slain seven Danes at once with one javelin, a blow which may be considered as bordering on the miraculous. But the number of the defenders of the tower was small indeed to that of the enemy, and the loss which they inflicted upon the Danes, great as it was, was as nothing in so vast a host.
The flames of the machines, lighted by the pitch and oil, communicated to the planks of the fortification, and soon these too were on fire. As they burned, the earth behind them gave way, and a breach was formed. Encouraged by this result the Danes brought up faggots, and in several places lighted great fires against the fortifications. The defenders began to lose all hope, when a tremendous storm of rain suddenly burst over Paris quenching the fire.
The besieged gained heart, reinforcements crossed from the town, and the Danes again withdrew to their ships, having lost in the day's fighting three hundred men. After this repulse the Northmen desisted for a time from their attack. They formed a strong fortified camp near the church of St. Germain, and then spread over the country slaying and burning, sparing none, man, woman, or child. From the walls of Paris the smoke could be seen rising over the whole country, and every heart was moved with rage and sorrow.
Edmund and his party had taken no part in the defence of the tower. Its loss would not have involved that of the town, and Eudes requested him to keep his band in reserve in order that they might remain intact until the Danes should make a breach in the walls of the city itself, when the sudden reinforcement of a party of such well-trained warriors might decide the result.
While a portion of the Danish host were engaged upon the work of devastation, a large number were employed upon the construction of three great towers. These were built on wheels, and were each large enough to hold sixty men. They far overtopped the walls, and the citizens viewed with alarm the time when an assault should be delivered under the protection of these formidable machines. Eighteen ships of equal size were moored by the bank six deep. Great planks were laid across them, and a sloping platform having been formed, the towers were by the efforts of thousands of men moved up and placed on the ships.
"If we do not destroy those towers, Egbert," Edmund said one day as he saw them slowly moving into their position on board the ships, "all is lost, for from their summits the Northmen with their bows and javelins will be able to clear the walls, while those below effect a breach at their leisure."
"That is true enough, Edmund, but I do not see any way to destroy them. Unfortunately we have no boats, or we might fill some of them with combustibles, and tow them down until near enough for the stream to carry them upon those vessels; but even then the chance were small indeed, for the Danes would swarm out in their boats and manage to tow or push them so that they would not touch the ships."
"I should think, Egbert, that if we could get some skins or planks we and our band might, when it is quite dark, sally out and take to the water at the lower end of the island and float down quietly for a mile or two, and then gain the further bank; then we might march along quietly until we reach those ships. The Danes know that we have no boats, and will not fear an attack. We must not do it until an hour or two before morning, when, after spending the early hours of the night as usual in feasting and drinking, they will sleep heavily. Just before we are ready to begin a small party can unmoor two or three of the boats by the bank and push them out, one to the outside of each tier of six vessels, so that we may have a means of retreat across the river. When that is done we will make a rush on board the ships, cut down any Danes we may find there, and set fire to all the vessels. We must hold the gangways to the shore until the flames get well alight, and then take to the boats and return."
"I think the plan is a good one, Edmund, and may well be carried out without great loss. There are plenty of empty wine skins at present in Paris. I will at once set about collecting a hundred of them. We will fasten to each a stout cord so as to form a loop to go over the head and shoulders, then we had best attach them all together by one long cord, by which means we shall float in a body."
"Fortunately the night is very dark and I think that we shall succeed. Say nothing about it, Egbert, and tell the men to keep silent. The good people of Paris shall know nothing of the matter until they see the flames dancing round the towers which they hold in so much dread."
The Saxons received with satisfaction the news of the intended expedition. They had been disappointed at being kept back from taking any part in the fighting during the two days' attack upon the tower, and longed for an opportunity to inflict a blow upon their hated enemy the Danes. The wine skins were fitted up with ropes as Egbert had suggested, and soon after nightfall the party, armed with spear and sword, and carrying each his float, sallied out from the gates, as Edmund was by this time so well known among the citizens that the gate was opened without demur on his order.
They crept along the foot of the wall until they reached the lower extremity of the island. Across the river innumerable fires blazed high, and the songs and shouts of the Danes rose loud in the air. Numbers of figures could be seen moving about or standing near the fires, the tents of the chiefs were visible some distance back, but the number of these as well as of the fires was much less than it had been on the first arrival of the Northmen, owing to the numbers who had gone to the camp round St. Germain.
The night was very dark and a light rain was falling. Before taking to the water Edmund bade his men strip off the greater portion of their clothes and fasten them in a bundle on their heads, as it would be some time after they landed before they could advance upon the camp, and the cold and dripping garments would tend to lessen their spirits and courage.
When all was ready they stepped into the water, and keeping in a body, drifted down the stream. The wine skins floated them well above the water, the stream was running strong, and the lights of the Danish fires were soon left behind.
In half an hour Edmund and Egbert deemed that they were now far beyond a point where they might chance upon any Danish stragglers. The word was therefore given, and all made for the bank. The stream had already drifted them in that direction, and they soon reached the shore. Here the skins which had proved so useful were left behind, and putting on their dry clothes, they felt comparatively comfortable. Edmund ordered them to lay down their spears and swords by their sides, and to swing their arms violently. This they continued to do until they were nearly breathless, by which time the blood was coursing warmly in their veins.
They were now in December, and the water was extremely cold, and Egbert congratulated Edmund upon having made the men strip, for had they been compelled to remain in their wet garments while waiting for the Danish fires to die down, they would scarce have been in a fit state to fight when the moment for so doing had arrived.
Three hours elapsed before the glare of the distant fires began to subside, another half hour passed, and then the band were formed up and moved along on the bank of the river.