"And thou hast brought a stranger within the camp, Wanderer," was the stern retort. "That is not right."
"Then to-morrow let me pay for it, if you think it wrong, comrade. But for the sake of a brave man who died well, let him now take the King's body away."
Then gruff old Wahrmund smote his spear into the ground and swore a lusty oath.
"Now, Wanderer, my mind misgives me that we two are doing that for which our heads may leave our bodies," he growled, "but still it shall be done. So lend me thy aid and we will lift this hero from his humble bed and bear him away."
"I knew that thou wert a true comrade, Wahrmund," said Wulnoth. But the Dane answered—
"I knew that thou wert a fool, Wanderer; and thou dost make me one, and, by Thor, perhaps I love thee the better for the doing of it."
Reverently did the young stranger take the severed head from Wulnoth; and he bowed his head for the moment over it, while the other two lifted their heavy burden.
"Now, how shall we bear this through the camp?" mused Wulnoth. And his friend answered—
"We will not bear it through the camp; we will cross from here to the forest. There are no sentries on this side that I know."
And so quietly the two carried their burden, the stranger walking beside them with the head, and when they reached the shelter of the wood they laid the body down and asked what next was to be done and whither it was to be borne.
"Leave it here with me," answered the stranger, "and all will be well. For you, kind foe, my best thanks." This he said to Wahrmund, who growled again, feeling perhaps a little ashamed of himself that he had been led into doing this thing; and the stranger turned to Wulnoth—
"To you I am bidden to say that if you wait here to-morrow night, about this hour, that which you most desire shall be, and a messenger will be here to guide you."
"Thou wilt give yon hero honor?" growled Wahrmund. "He should be buried with honor." And the stranger smiled—
"If thou dost want to see that, warrior, come thou with thy friend to-morrow and see for thyself—"
"How do you know that you can trust me, and how do I know that I can trust you, Saxon?" the Dane asked mockingly; and the Saxon answered calmly—
"I can trust a man who is noble enough to watch by the body of a shamed hero through the long night hours."
"Good," said Wahrmund. "Then how may I know that I can trust you?"
"You may trust me," answered the other, "because for that which you have done I am grateful. Not even to a foe does a true man repay kindness with ingratitude." And again Wahrmund said, "Good."
"I know not who you are, stranger; but I know you to be a true man," he said. "One day we may meet face to face in the war game, but to-morrow night we will meet, as thou sayest, in peace."
"Till then, farewell," said the stranger; and then the two turned and went. And the stranger called like the wood owl, and from the shadows came silent ones, who lifted the dead King and bore him away, with sound of weeping and lamentation.
Now, this is how Wulnoth met Wyborga the Wise in the woods of East Anglia, and this is how the body of King Edmund was carried from the camp of the Danes.
Now, on the morning after Wulnoth had aided in the carrying away of the King's body, there was trouble in the Danish camp, because one who had gone into the field to view the remains of the victim of Hungwar's cruelty found no trace left; and this he thought strange.
And, though the Danes were fierce and cruel, there were some amongst them noble enough to reverence a brave man who could suffer in patience as King Edmund had done; and these, like Guthrun, declared that Hungwar's deed was a shame deed, and one to be repented of.
And these, when they heard that the body was gone, declared that this was the work of the gods, because they were angry that the King had been slain. And some said that they had seen the King fly up into the clouds, borne along by the storm sisters; and others declared that he had stalked through the camp, his head in his hand, and had vanished into the forest.
But then, there are always people ready to fancy that they have seen such wonders as these, and others who will say that they have seen, even if they know it false; so the Danish leaders shook their heads and laughed when they heard, and said that the warriors had drunk too deeply from their ale horns the night before.
But Hungwar was troubled and angry, for he liked not to hear such tales; and he felt, moreover, that some treachery was abroad, or that foes had been in the camp and taken the body away.
"Why trouble thy head about it?" laughed Hubba, his brother. "The carrion is gone. The wolves have eaten it." But to that Hungwar answered—
"Wolves leave bones, brother, and there be no bones left here. There is treason amongst us, brother, and woe be to the man who is guilty if I find him out."
"Wanderer," said Wahrmund to his friend, that same morning, "methinks we played a daring game last night, and methinks that if it were known to our leaders, our tarrying in this world would be short and painful. Art thou determined to go through with this business to-night?"
"I am determined," answered Wulnoth firmly. "But come thou not, friend, if thou art minded to keep away. I will see this thing to the end; for there is one I seek to see, and I will give my life in payment, if need be."
"Thy princess, as thou dost call her, comrade?" laughed Wahrmund. "Ah! I know. So do a pair of pretty eyes lead brave men to danger and death. But hark to me, comrade"; and he lowered his voice. "I tell thee this because I love thee for a brave man, and because I read things quickly. There was some talk of a beautiful child in those days when we destroyed Lethra, and much was Hungwar angered that he could not find her. Now, if this princess of thine be she whom I suppose, look to it that Hungwar hear not of it, or there will be trouble. She is not a child now, but maiden grown; and Hungwar would not do the hunting and leave thee to take the spoil. Look to it, Wulnoth, for the son of Regner is crafty, as well as fierce; and there may be trouble for thee and thy princess yet."
Wulnoth thanked his friend for his counsel, and he thought to himself that if ever things came to that pass there would be trouble for Hungwar also; but that thought he kept from his comrade, for Wahrmund was of Hungwar's band, and Wulnoth would not do aught to make him false to his oath.
All day long the Danes roamed, hunting and sporting; and often, alas, hunting human game, driving, harrying, slaying, all the unhappy churls with whom they met, and burning their poor houses to the ground.
For this was the leader's counsel—"Here we must make a stronghold," they said, "and none but our own men must remain in the land. Then, when we have played the war game, and driven our foes before us, we will make the Saxons become our thralls, and they shall labor for us while we live at ease."
And, truly, in East Anglia it seemed as if this would be; for the people had become filled with fear and hopeless, and they thought no more of fighting these fierce strangers, who came in swarms, as the gnats rise from the pools, but they either fled and left all or else came and offered service, begging for life only.
Now in the evening, when the shadows grew, and the holdas gathered in their hall, and told their tales and drank their brown ale and wine, then Wulnoth and Wahrmund went their way towards the forest, thinking that no man would notice their absence. But Hungwar, as he sat with his friends, glanced with quick suspicious eyes adown the hall, and he saw that Wulnoth and Wahrmund were away, and he remembered that they had been away the night before; and he said naught, but resolved to watch them closely, for he hated Wulnoth, he knew not why, and he knew that Wahrmund was his friend.
And into the forest the friends went, spear in hand and sword by side, for no man might go safely unless he bore his weapons; and presently, when they came to the place where they had parted from the stranger the night before, a low hooting of the wood owl was heard, and from the deep shadows a man stepped and saluted them.
"Greeting, Hacos, both," he said, in low tones, using the name by which the Saxons call a stranger from the Northland. "Ye are to follow me."
"Hold!" cried Wahrmund, ever a wary old soldier. "That is all very well, my friend. But how do we know it? We indeed came hither to meet one, but that one you are not; and how are we to know that you come from him and are not a foe seeking to lead us to our doom?"
"The thorn-crowned cross," answered the man. "The Wanderer will know of it."
"In truth I do know," cried Wulnoth. "We may follow, Wahrmund; for if he were not sent by my friends he would not have given me that token."
"Follow then," growled the Dane, shouldering his spear, "and follow close; for, by Thor, this darkness is such that a man might walk into the presence of his worst foes, and be none the wiser until the sword or knife told him of it."
"The way is somewhat long," the guide said calmly. "Of that I warn you, and it is hard to tread."
"Little care we for that," was the answer he received. "We have trodden no easy paths of late. Lead on, and we follow."
So through the forest they went, and in the shadow a voice challenged and their guide answered. And thrice did this happen, showing to them that, after all, the soldiers of East Anglia still remained in the land and kept watch and ward over the secret paths.
Then they came from the woodland, and saw before them, in the dim light, pools and streams of water stretching all around; and the guide said—
"Follow closely in my steps, for there is death here for any who stray." And Wahrmund grunted, for he liked not the road they trod, where the feet sank into yielding soil at every step, and the air was full of the croakings of frogs and the cries of night birds.
And here again they were challenged twice, and the guide gave answer ere they were allowed to proceed; and so going they came to the water's edge where, silent and motionless, men awaited them with a boat.
"Ah!" grunted Wahrmund, "this is better. The water is the viking's land, and better than those forests or the swampy plains. Have we far to go, guide? for methinks that time passes."
"You shall be safely back at your camp ere the dawn breaks in the east," answered the guide. "Now be silent and prepare to see sights of which you know nothing yet."
The boat crossed to an island, and here they stepped ashore, again being challenged; and then, in the centre of the isle, which was but small, they saw a building, surrounded by trees to screen it from the passers-by, and here the guide paused and uttered his cry again; and at that, from the yawning portal a man emerged, clad in a gray robe which reached to his feet.
"Who are these, my son?" he asked. And the guide replied—
"Those whom I was bidden bring, father. Now I leave them in thy keeping."
"It is well. Follow me, friends, and be silent and solemn; and, moreover, remember that ye go into the presence of the Most High."
There was something awe-inspiring in his solemn words; and he, without awaiting their reply, led the way into this building, passing along a low, narrow way, arched o'erhead, and pausing at a door whereat a man sat.
"Enter," he said, "and once again I pray you be silent, and remember that it is only because the Atheling and a royal lady have desired this, that we let your eyes behold our worship. Enter," and stepping aside he suffered them to go in.
And what a strange place it was! For the moment their eyes seemed blinded by the light—light that came from a hundred lamps. Then, as they grew accustomed to the radiance, they were able to look around and examine their surroundings.
It was not a very spacious apartment, but it was very beautiful. Massive stone pillars in long rows supported the arched roof, and the windows were ornamented with curious carvings in stone work. But it was not at columns, nor roof, nor at windows, that they looked, but at the scene directly facing them, for such a scene they had never viewed before.
There uprose above five stone steps a lofty altar, draped in white and crimson and gold, and many a gem and much precious metal in its workings; and there, directly in front of this, was a bier, upon which rested the body of the martyred King Edmund.
Calm and dignified did the royal face look in death, and all the pain and weariness had left the features. The hair fell on either side of the wax-like brow, upon which his golden crown now rested; and behind the bier, rising over it as though it were guarding the sleeping King, rose a cross. Ay, a cross, yet not an empty one, for on it hung One nailed there by hands and feet.
All the skill of the sculptor, all the cunning of the painter, had been expended upon that work; and as the two rough Northmen looked, they held their breath in awe, for the blue eyes, so gentle and yet so kingly, seemed to glance across at them; and the whole attitude of the Sufferer seemed to speak of infinite pity and love, so that Wahrmund drew a deep breath and whispered to his companion—
"By Thor! 'T is a god yonder. 'T is Balder the Beautiful, who watches from yon cross, over the couch of death!"
"Hush!" answered Wulnoth in the same tone—he could not take his eyes from that figure. Without word being spoken to him he saw what a poor blind fool he had been. If this was the image of Him Whom the Christians worshipped, He was no coward and nithing, but the greatest, the grandest, the noblest of all the sons of men.
Then they noticed yet another thing—the body of the King was guarded, for on either side of the bier a man knelt—a young man, clad in royal attire, and upon the head of one of the two glittered a kingly crown.
"Yon kneeling man is he we saw in the wood last night—he whom we aided," whispered Wahrmund, and Wulnoth nodded.
But now came a sound of soft music, sweet and strange, now sinking into a whisper, now rising into a flood, and with it the voices of singers raising a death-song.
But a strange death-song, truly, for the death-songs of the North were to the honor of the heroes and spoke of their deeds, but this song was to the White Christ and to the God of Heaven, and it spoke no word of praise about the dead king, but only told of humble trust in the Crucified One.
Then into the building the singers swept, all veiled in long robes—some men, some graceful maidens, and—
Wulnoth started and fixed his anxious eyes upon one of that throng—surely he knew that voice—surely he recognized that figure—surely beneath that robe the beauty of Edgiva was hidden!
But if it was the Princess she gave no sign. The singers slowly passed up to the altar and divided into two parties, one on either side, and the two watchers rose up and stood by the bier, as kingly a pair of young men as the eye might look upon, though he whom they had spoken with the evening before looked pale and as if sickness had been his portion.
Then there came other men, priests, led by one tall and dignified, and they sang praises to God, and offered prayers, and spoke of the Crucified as Lord of Lords and King of Kings. And the two watchers stood there with hearts filled with wonder and awe, for though they could not understand, yet there was something both grand and dreadful in this worship, and yet, withal, it was winning, like the sweet scent of the flowers or the song of the birds, or the whisper of the sea upon a summer's day. It was something which seemed to get into their hearts, and made them long for they knew not what, with a longing which was sweet and painful.
And then the aged priest, for such they divined the man to be, stood and spoke of the dead King and the work which he had tried to do, and how he had been tried and was faithful, choosing rather the tortures of the Danes than the denying of his Lord, and how, though he had passed through the gates of death, yet in his Lord he lived and reigned in glory forever.
And then he paused and turned to the two young men, and called them the hope of the Church, and bade them be strong in the Lord and gird themselves for battle.
"Strong are the foe and terrible," he said. "Many as the sands of the sea and mighty as Bashan, but in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength, and He Who could strengthen Gideon, and make Jephthah conquer, shall also make you mighty. Go forward, hope of the Church—go forward, avengers of the noble Edmund—go forward and quit yourselves like men, and the Lord shall give you the victory, and deliver His Church from the powers of darkness and from the violence of the spoiler."
Then the two young men knelt again, and the priest placed his hands upon them and blessed them; and then the men in long robes came and took up the body of the dead King and carried it away. And in one portion of the building was the dark entrance to an underground vault, and into this they lowered the bier, while all there sang hymns of victory to God for victory over death. And this was the burying of the King of the East Saxons.
Then two by two the procession was formed, and, headed by the priest, they swept all round the building, coming nigh the spot where Wulnoth and his companion stood in the shadow, and the eyes of Wulnoth followed that one figure, his heart telling him that this was Edgiva the Beautiful.
And then, just as she reached the spot where he stood, for one moment a tiny hand appeared from beneath the shrouding cloak, and a fair blossom dropped at his feet. Then, ere he could speak or move, she had passed on, and the church was empty.
"Now," said Wahrmund, speaking in low tones, "we have seen strange things over which a man needs ponder deeply. But methinks, comrade, all is done now, and we had best look for our guide."
Then, ere Wulnoth could answer, a curtain was drawn aside from an arching doorway, and the man with whom they had come hither stood before them.
Now, this is how Wulnoth saw the burying of King Edmund, and this is how he looked upon the image of Him Whom he had called a nithing.
The man held the curtain aside and invited them to follow him.
"The Atheling bids you come," he said. "And he says to him called the Wanderer that not yet has he received that reward which was promised to him."
"Come, Wanderer," laughed Wahrmund, "we may as well go through with it now. By Thor! 't is strange that I, a Dane, should be amongst these Saxons, but I feel inclined to see this to the end. How sayest thou?"
Little need to ask Wulnoth such a question, for the one desire of his heart was to see his Princess. Therefore the two followed their guide, and were ushered into an apartment where sat the two men whom they had seen watching in the church.
And the younger, he who did not wear the crown, came to welcome them and said—
"Greeting, friends, and again thanks for the aid you rendered me in securing honor for King Edmund's body."
Then he turned to the other, and went on—
"Ethelred, my royal and dear brother, these are the two of whom I told you, and to their help are we indebted, for otherwise it would have been a hard matter to gain the body of the martyr."
"We thank you from our hearts, strangers," said the one called Ethelred. And Wahrmund whispered to his friend—
"By Thor! 'T is Ethelred, the King of the West Saxons. He is son of the noble Ethelwulf the Bretwalda, and the other must be his brother, the Atheling Alfred."
Then did the King continue, looking hard at Wulnoth, and he said—
"But what is this? We have no Dane here, brother! This hair and those blue eyes are surely of the land of our fathers!"
"That is so, royal brother," answered Alfred. "According to all I have heard from the wise Wyborga, this man is of the noble house of Cerdic, he from whom our own house also traces its descent."
"Is that so?" the King cried. "It is good in one way, and yet 't is strange to think of one of such royal blood joining our foes."
"Strange is this man's story, my brother," Alfred replied. "I have it as it was told to me," and he told the King how Wulnoth came to Lethra with his father and of all that had happened since.
But the King shook his head as he listened, and said that this did not explain how Wulnoth came to be in Hungwar's army, seeing that it was Hungwar who gave Lethra to fire and sword.
So Wulnoth spoke, and told how he had two tasks to do—one to find Guthred the Prince, and the other to find the mightiest and the strongest. And at that Alfred the Atheling smiled gently.
"Now, brother," he said to the King, "this is a task for priests, and perchance a fair teacher whom we two wot of, and not for us. Thou seest how this man chances to be with the Danes, and thou seest how 't is but a step to discovering that for which he seeks. Let this good warrior"—and he pointed to Wahrmund—"tarry here with us and let the other go to his reward."
But the King looked grave and he said slowly—
"This man is a thrall, and Edgiva is a king's daughter."
"This man is of our blood, and can noble blood be debased because a thrall collar is placed upon the neck? My word is pledged, brother, that this man shall see the lady, and I pray you to allow it."
"Let it be so," said the King, and the Atheling laughed. "Follow me, O Wanderer," he said to Wulnoth; and as the Wanderer obeyed, he heard the deep laugh of Wahrmund, and the words—
"Of a truth, O King, a wondrous thing is love. You might offer yon man a golden crown now, and he would not take it in exchange for a few moments with a fair maiden."
The Atheling led Wulnoth to another chamber and bade him wait there, and presently there came a light step, and Edgiva stood before him, holding out her hands with a smile upon her lips.
And when Wulnoth saw her all his strength seemed to go, and only a great love seized upon him so that he dropped on his knees and took her hands and kissed them, and cried, as if he had been a weak woman and not a mighty man, and he said—
"O my Princess! my Princess! I have wandered far to see you, and my heart has grown weary with longing. Why have you hidden yourself from me all this time, and I was your watcher who guarded you? Oh! why have you done this thing, my Princess?"
And Edgiva bent over him, and in her beautiful eyes there were tears also as she bade him rise and come and sit beside her.
But Wulnoth shook his head and answered that might not be, for she was the King's daughter and he but a thrall.
"Now nay, Wulnoth," answered Edgiva. "Even if what thou sayest is true, then it would be mine to command and thine to obey. But this is not so. Thou and I are friends as we were in the dear old days when we were in Lethra—"
"But I angered you, my Princess," he said. "I angered you in the woods when I spoke of Thor." And Edgiva looked grave.
"Nay, not angered, Wulnoth," she said gently. "I was grieved, but I knew it would all come right in the end. Now, Wulnoth, tell me, for we have but little time, and perchance we may not meet again yet—"
"Not meet!" he cried. "Oh, my Princess, thou wilt not send me away again!"
"Wulnoth, thou hast thy work, and I have mine," she answered, "and we must fulfil our tasks. Now listen then to my words. Thou hast longed to find me again?"
"I have longed to find you, O Princess," he answered. "For I am thy watcher."
"And only because thou art my watcher?" she answered softly, and he made no reply.
"Canst thou not answer my question, Wulnoth?" she asked again. "Hast thou longed to find me only because thou art my watcher?"
And then he looked up, and his strong face was full of light, yet his voice was full of pain, and he said—
"Oh, my Princess, that is the first cruel thing that thou hast done to me, for why wilt thou have me tell my heart's story to thee, seeing that thou art so far away from me? Yet if thou wilt have it so, it shall be. I have longed for thee, Edgiva, because I love thee—because not a maiden in the world has moved my heart as thou hast done; because in my dreams thou hast smiled upon me. I love thee, Princess—I who am thrall and thy watcher—and now that the matter is told, send for thy servants and have me cast out."
And then, while he knelt there with bowed head, one little arm crept round his neck, and a dear, gentle voice spoke in his ear saying—
"Oh, thou great, strong, hero-hearted, foolish Wulnoth! Had it been my wish to cast thee forth, dost thou think I had let thee see me, or speak such words as thou hast now done? Wulnoth, they are heart music to me. Thou foolish Wulnoth, to be jealous as thou wast in the forest! Thou loyal Wulnoth, to resist the temptation wherewith Wyborga tempted thee to tarry there with me! Kiss me, Wulnoth, my great bear of a lover, for truly thou art as big and as strong and as shaggy as a bear, but thou art my love, and no other love have I had, save my Lord Whom I serve."
Then all music came into Wulnoth's soul, for he knew that Edgiva loved him, and he felt that nothing else mattered in this world now, and he asked her how it was since she loved him that she had fled away from him in the past.
"Canst thou not see, Wulnoth?" Edgiva answered. "It was because I loved thee. But I had learnt to love the Lord, and thou didst know nothing of Him, and hadst thou made me thy wife then, I should have followed thee and have forgotten my Lord."
"Yet I am not a Christian now, Edgiva," he said. "And not even to win thee would I call myself one unless I could do so honestly."
"I know that, Wulnoth," she answered. "But the time will come when thou dost understand. Tell me, dost thou still think the Lord a nithing, and His worship fit only for weaklings?" And at that Wulnoth shook his head.
"Princess," he said, "I am like a man who walks in a wood having lost his way, or like those who are caught by the sea fog off a rocky shore. I know not what to think. For of a truth it seems strange for strong men to suffer wrong when they have swords by their sides; and yet I have seen the King die, and—it was more than I could fathom; and I have looked at the image in the church yonder—the image on the cross, and it seemed to speak to me. I know not what to think."
"And hast thou found the mightiest leader yet, Wulnoth?" she asked. And he shook his head again.
"Nay, Princess. I sought old Regner Lodbrok, for he was called the mightiest, but he died here in this land, and thus it is that I come to be with those who are doubly mine enemies, seeing that they are Danes, and those who ruined Lethra's kingdom—"
"So Wyborga told me that you would," Edgiva said. "She is wise and can prophesy, and it was she who foresaw your coming, and that the Prince should meet you in the forest. It was she who said that you should be in the church to-night, and it was she who said that I might see you. And, Wulnoth, if you have longed to see me, I also have longed for you, and comforted my heart that we should meet again."
"But oh, my love," he answered, "thou art beautiful and a king's daughter, and I am—"
"Of the Royal House of Cerdic—of the same stock as the King of the West Saxons. Thou must do mighty deeds for me, Wulnoth, and earn me a name, and then I shall be proud of thee."
"But how can I, Princess? I am of the Danes now. I must leave them and come to my own people—"
"Nay, Wulnoth. Wyborga told me of this thing. She said that thou shouldst not do that, for the parting with Hungwar and his brother would come without seeking it in that fashion. Go back to the camp and wait; and now know, Wulnoth, that I do love thee, and that I shall love none other. Yet we cannot be more than friends until thou hast finished thy quest—"
"And found Guthred?" he asked.
"Nay, but found the mightiest, and the bravest, and the grandest amongst men," she answered.
"Dost thou know, Edgiva, that it hath been told to me that Hungwar still remembers thee, and that he would fain find thee?" Wulnoth asked. And she smiled.
"Ay, I know that, Wulnoth," she answered; "and indeed I should be afraid, but that I know thou wilt be near me now, and while thou art nigh, I fear not Hungwar."
Then they were silent, standing side by side, hand in hand, and love in their hearts. And it was peace time in their souls, when all the world seemed fair, and when all nature was singing, just as it had done in the past when, as children, they wandered with Guthred in the flower-laden fields, or the shady groves of Lethra. And Edgiva lifted her face to him and smiled, and her eyes spoke words that her lips uttered not; and Wulnoth bent and kissed her, and in that kiss their souls seemed joined, so that none might come between them forever.
Then did Wyborga come and bid Wulnoth join his friend again, for the way was long, and the hours were fleeing; and Wulnoth came and Edgiva with him; and when Wahrmund saw the Princess, he stared open-mouthed, and he cried—
"Thora, beloved of Regner, the son of Sigurd, was called the most beautiful of women; but here is one more beautiful. Not Freya herself is more fair than thou art, Princess."
"Thou art a flatterer, Dane," laughed Alfred the Atheling; but Wahrmund answered—
"Not so, Prince. I speak what I think; and I counsel thee, if counsel I may, to keep this pearl from the sight of Hungwar and his friends; for surely they would burn this land into gray ash to secure such a treasure."
"Methinks our royal sister looks far more gay than she has done for many a day, brother," said the King with a smile. And Edgiva answered steadily, and with never a blush—
"That is true, royal Ethelred, for I have found again my hero." And at that the King laughed again.
Then did the Atheling turn to Wulnoth and ask him of his search after the mightiest, and where he would now look, seeing that Regner Lodbrok was dead; and Wulnoth answered that he knew not where to look now, unless he went afar to Rome and sought the Emperor.
"Now, Wulnoth," the Atheling said, "let me be thy redesman in this. Thou didst think that Regner Lodbrok was the mightiest warrior?"
"Then, by my beard, he was not far out," cried Wahrmund. And the Prince smiled.
"So! Yet this Regner is dead, and there is no king but must die in the end."
"That is true, Prince," Wulnoth said; and Wahrmund nodded.
"Then death is mightier than the mightiest," said Alfred. And Wulnoth looked puzzled.
"Does that mean we should follow death, Prince?" he said. "By my word, we soldiers do that all our lives, methinks."
"Nay, Wulnoth. 'T is true we follow death, for 't is our call; but there is one mightier than death even."
"Mightier than death!" cried Wahrmund. "That is hard saying, Prince; for what, or who, is mightier than death?" And to that the Prince answered—
"Life is mightier than death. Do not thy own sagas tell thee that the heroes live again in Walhalla, and that they perish no more?"
"Ay," answered Wahrmund. "Though whether it be true or not, I cannot say."
"Wulnoth," the Prince went on, "thou didst see the image of Him Who hung on the cross? He Whom thou didst once call nithing, I hear."
"I have seen, Prince," Wulnoth answered.
"Then know He is the Lord of Life; and to conquer death He died, and He rose again. Death and He went holmgang, and He conquered. He is the mightiest, and by Him shall we drive out our foes and conquer Thor and his followers."
"Do not be too sure of that, Prince," growled Wahrmund, not liking to hear his people spoken of so; but the Prince went on—
"Nay, I mean not to offend you, brave soldier. I only speak what I feel. Have you not told me that you wondered to see how King Edmund braved the worst torture and pain?"
"That is so," the Dane answered. And once more the Prince went on—
"And how did he do this? He was strengthened by the Lord; and He Who had suffered succored him in his suffering. Now, it is to Him that you must turn. But now," he added, "the morning draws near, and you two must be back at the camp ere day breaks; so let us bid each other farewell, and perchance we may meet again."
So they clasped each other's hands, the Saxons and the Dane; and Edgiva smiled on Wulnoth, and whispered her love-parting; and then he and Wahrmund set out, guided by him who had brought them, until they reached the forest.
And when at last they were alone, the Dane stopped and stroked his beard, and he said slowly—
"Comrade, we two have seen strange things to-night, and heard strange things, too. But beware how you speak of them to me where other ears may listen; for there are three things which Hungwar would be glad to have."
"What are they, Wahrmund?" asked Wulnoth carelessly; for he was so happy that he cared little for Hungwar and his wants.
"Wanderer, the son of Regner would like the gold from yon Christian altar; and he would like to have that Atheling in his power; and he would like to have the Lady Edgiva also."
"He shall have my axe ere he has one of the three," said Wulnoth; and the Dane laughed grimly.
"Bold words! But the son of Regner is no nithing nor weakling; and he has some warriors around him, Wanderer. Thou mayst be strong, but thou art not strong enough for that; therefore, I warn thee be discreet and hold thy tongue."
Now, this is how Wulnoth found his Princess, and how the love tale was spoken, and this is how Alfred the Atheling told Wulnoth of the Mightiest and the Bravest of Lords.
Now, though Hungwar the Dane had evil thoughts respecting Wulnoth and Wahrmund, he held his peace and kept his own counsel at the first; and in the morning, when the two were in the hall, he greeted them with a dark smile, and he said—
"Greeting, Wulnoth, and greeting, Wahrmund. You are cunning warriors; for while we have been feasting and drinking and listening to the songs of the scalds, we have missed your faces; and methinks, surely, that ye have been spying out the land, and seeing where the foe hide."
"We have been wandering, O chief," answered Wulnoth. And Hungwar laughed loudly.
"What should the Wanderer do but wander?" he cried. "Thou art not content with doing the deeds of ordinary men, thou rider on sea monsters and thou doer of great deeds. But take care, lest one day thou do a deed too many, and a little thing, like a spear or a sword, make thy strength become weakness."
"Death comes to all in time, O chief," Wulnoth answered; and again Hungwar laughed.
"True, O Wanderer; yet sometimes he comes to some sooner than to others—and there are other ways of dying than by the man's tools."
"Look you, Wanderer," growled Wahrmund, when the two were alone, "we are in an evil case, we two; for Hungwar suspects, and when he is suspicious he puts an end to doubts with the sword or the axe. We are surely in an evil case, Wanderer."
And to that Wulnoth answered—
"It may be as thou sayest, Wahrmund, for this son of Regner is to my mind more of a nithing than a hero."
"That is but partly true," answered Wahrmund, jealous for the honor of his chief. "True, he is cruel and merciless, but when it comes to playing the man's game, where the blows are the hardest and the sword sings the loudest, there, be sure, will Hungwar be found. Still, we are in an evil case, and I see not how to advise thee. My rede is that thou flee at once, lest evil befall thee."
"I flee not," answered Wulnoth; "I am no nithing. Edgiva told me that Wyborga, who is a wise woman and a prophetess, declared that I should abide here until I received a sign, and I see no sign yet."
"To my mind," answered Wahrmund, "Hungwar's words are sign enough for any man, and you will be wise to take them."
"Do you flee with me?" Wulnoth asked. And the Dane swore a mighty oath by Thor that he would not.
"I have followed Regner Lodbrok since I was a boy," he said, "and I will follow his son, unless he attempts my life or does a shame deed to me. If that day comes, then I will fight my last fight with back to wall, and some shall go with me to Walhalla."
"Then if thou dost not flee, I do not flee," answered Wulnoth, and there the matter ended for the time.
Yet Wulnoth had much to think of; and the more he thought, the more he felt that the gods of the North were false gods, and that the God of Christians was the true God; and that it was by bearing that conquest came. And yet that puzzled him, for he felt that a warrior should war; and he knew that if Hungwar tried to do him harm, then he should fight and make his big sword sing a good song ere he was vanquished.
And more than once did his friend urge him to escape, saying that he was sure that Hungwar thought evil against him, and would seek soon to do him harm; but to all the pleading, Wulnoth answered that while Wahrmund stayed, he would stay also.
Yet Hungwar did plot evil against Wulnoth, and in a cunning way. He knew that the Wanderer looked with anger upon the killing of King Edmund, and he thought to have that done which should make Wulnoth speak rashly, and so bring him into his power; and thus it is that he did it. One of the bands of Danes which had roamed the country brought tidings of a village hidden away amidst the marshes, where old people and women and little children dwelt; and the chiefs, in cruel sport, said that they would go against this village themselves, and teach the churls the way to the storm-land; and Hungwar called upon Wulnoth and Wahrmund to be of his party.
Now, Wulnoth was troubled at this, and yet he knew not how to escape the going; and he comforted himself by thinking that when the sword sang and the red flames danced, then he might be able to save some of the poor victims and aid them to escape.
So the Danes went out on their cruel errand, and the village was surrounded, and the houses given to the fire; and the people were collected and brought into the midst of the Danes.
And then Hungwar and Hubba, raging like wolves, ordered the men to be tortured, and the women to be burnt, and the children and the maidens to be put to death by the warriors; and Wulnoth felt a great anger coming into his heart, and his blood began to tingle as it beat through his veins, and the spirit of the berserker came upon him; and at last he could stand idle no longer; and just then Hungwar called to him and mocked him, saying—
"Ah, Wanderer, thou art a sluggard. Thy sword has had no drink, and thy axe is dry. To work, Wanderer, to work, and join our sport."
"Patience, Hungwar," answered Wulnoth grimly. "Sword and axe shall have their fill. This murdering of prisoners is a nithing's game, fit only for such dogs as thou and thy companions. This is better sport for me." And with that he struck a mighty blow with his fist at one viking who had speared a little child; and, though he hit but with his fist, the man dropped dead.
"Thou dog!" roared Hungwar. "Dost thou dare to speak so to me? I will have thy tongue cut out for this insolence."
"Come and do it thyself, Dane," answered Wulnoth. "Or shall I come to thee?" and he strode towards the chief.
But men ran between them, and a score of weapons were raised against him, and many voices cried out that he should die.
"Now this is a man's game," he laughed. "Pity 't is that Hungwar will not play in it"; and he swung his axe high, and made it play like a circle of fire around his head, and wherever that axe fell there fell a viking of Denmark.
"Do not slay him. Take him alive," cried Hungwar, keeping out of reach of danger himself. "And take Wahrmund also, for he is a traitor, and the two know of the treasure of the Saxons and where the West Saxon King is. Take them alive, and the torture shall make them cry for mercy."
"Now, by Thor!" growled Wahrmund, when he heard that, "for forty years have I warred for Denmark and followed thy house, O Hungwar; and I looked to go to the storm-land doing so. But thou takest me not prisoner, and thou puttest me not to torture. And now I tell thee, as the Wanderer has told thee, that thou art a nithing and a coward, and more fit to lead ravening wolves than to direct heroes. Come thou hither and take me, thou coward."
But Hungwar only answered—"Take them alive. Do them no hurt," and he foamed at the mouth like an angry bear, and shook his fists in the air.
"Now, Wanderer, there is a game to play and a song to be sung," cried Wahrmund, as he reached Wulnoth's side. "Stand thou beside me and let us see what we may do in this case."
So side by side they stood, their faces to the foe; and the Danes circled round them, seeking to find a place for spear thrust or sword stroke. But ever the shields received the blow, and ever the axes answered the stroke, and men fell shorn and gashed, and still the two champions stood unscathed.
And then, when the foe gathered for a greater rush, Wulnoth's strength came, like unto madness; and he rushed forward and caught a warrior in each hand and whirled them round as if they were flails, so that the vikings drew back in horror and fear, for they had never seen men strong like as Wulnoth was.
Then loud the Wanderer laughed, and he cried to his friend—
"'T is a good fight, Wahrmund, comrade, and one worth the fighting. We have slain many. Now shall we make an end and rush upon them, and take this Hungwar with us to the storm-land?"
But Wahrmund answered—
"Hast thou forgotten Edgiva the Beautiful, Wanderer? She will weep for thee, and, moreover, thou mayst yet be needed to watch over her. I see no sense in staying here to be slaughtered. Let us retreat side by side, and since these holdas cast us out, seek the Atheling and lend him our aid."
"Now surely thy words are good words, comrade," Wulnoth answered. "For if this is not the sign for which I waited, then I know not what may be. So shield in front and axe ready, let us step backwards, comrade, and then, if we can reach the forest, all may be well."
Then the two heroes began to step backwards, still facing their enemy, and around them swarmed the host of the foe, pressing hard and sore, until at last Wahrmund cried to Wulnoth that they should run.
"No scald can say we are nithing or weak," he said, "for we have fought a good fight. But fain would I see thee live, Wulnoth, since that is thy real name, for I see thou hast a word to say to Hungwar yet. As for me, I know this is my last fight, for I am sore wounded—"
"Say not 't is thy last fight, comrade," cried Wulnoth. "If thou dost tarry, then I tarry with thee."
"Think thou of Edgiva," said Wahrmund. And Wulnoth answered—
"I do think of her. I think I should be shamed to look her in the face and say I deserted a wounded comrade."
"I wish thee to live that thou mayst avenge me," Wahrmund said. But all that Wulnoth would answer was—
"I will avenge thee, ere I die by thy side."
Now, Wahrmund perceived that Wulnoth had the berserker spirit upon him, and that he was as one mad, who would listen to no reason; and yet he was minded to save him for the sake of Edgiva the Beautiful, so he said—
"Now come, then, and run, for nigh this spot is a deep ravine, the which is crossed by a single plank, and if we gain that, we can there hold our own and make a good fight."
"So be it," replied Wulnoth, and together they ran, though Wahrmund was sore in pain and wounded deeply, and soon the bridge was in sight.
It was but a log laid across a cleft in the earth, and the cleft was so wide that no man might hope to leap it, and so deep that it was death to try to descend its sides, and the trunk was but laid on the earth.
"Cross thou first, Wulnoth," gasped Wahrmund. "Cross, and hold the other end steady, for it rests on a stone, and I fear I should fall if I tried to walk over first."
The Danes were now hard upon them, and to the soldiers were joined many chiefs of fame, all full of fury at the deed that had been done.
Wulnoth, thinking nothing of what was in his friend's heart, rushed across and turned to hold the log steady, but Wahrmund stopped at his end and he seized the log with both hands and hurled it down into the chasm so that none might pass to Wulnoth, and he could not return to them.
"What hast thou done, Wahrmund, my friend?" cried Wulnoth in despair, but Wahrmund smiled and waved his hand.
"Flee thou, comrade," he answered. "I did this on purpose, for I knew thou wouldst not leave me, and I am minded that thou shalt escape. Wulnoth, the death shadow is upon me, and when that is so men see far ahead. I tell thee, thou son of Cerdic, that thou hast a big work to do, and thou must live; while as for me, my work is done, and I go to the storm-land."
"Oh, skoal to thee, thou hero!" cried Wulnoth. "Would that I might cross again and stand by thy side!"
"That thou canst not do," answered Wahrmund; and then he turned, standing with his back to the chasm and his shield advanced, and thus he met the rush of the foe, and made his axe sing a good song and bite deeply ere he fell himself.
And Wulnoth stood on the farther bank and watched the fight, and he cried aloud in his grief and called upon the Danes to fight fairly.
"Oh, nithings!" he cried. "Oh, slayers of little children and weaklings, is there not a man amongst you now? Does no hero soul dwell in Denmark? Not so would Regner Lodbrok have dealt with a brave man. Oh, cowards and nithings that you are, would I were with my friend, to stand by his side!"
But little did the Danes heed his cries. They pressed upon brave Wahrmund, seeking to take him alive. He was bleeding from a score of wounds, and his strength was all gone.
He tried to cast himself into the chasm, but they laid hands upon him, seeking to drag him away; and he turned his face towards Wulnoth, and cried to him—
"A boon, comrade—a boon for friendship's sake! Thou hast thy spear. A cast, comrade—a good, true cast, right between the shoulders. Better death from a comrade's spear than torture by Hungwar."
Then, as he made an end of speaking, he turned back to the foe, gripping them and holding them at arm's length, planting his feet firmly and standing with his back towards Wulnoth.
And Wulnoth understood, and he raised his spear.
"Skoal to thee, hero amongst men," he cried. "Art ready?" and Wahrmund panted—
"Skoal and farewell. I am ready, comrade."
Then, straight and true flew Wulnoth's spear, and it smote Wahrmund right between the shoulders and stood out a hand's breadth in front, and the old viking fell, dragging two of his foes with him down into the chasm into which he had cast the log.
Then did Wulnoth stand on the other bank, and some cast their spears, but he caught them on his shield, and he cried to Hungwar and said—
"Listen to me, thou nithing, thou wolf that eats up little children, thou fearer of grown men. There is a mark on thy cheek, and I put it there—I, when only a boy; and had it not been for this man whom thou hast watched die, I had surely made an end of thee on that day with my broken weapon. I am Wulnoth, son of Cerdic, thou Danish nithing, and of a surety one day thou and I shall meet again, and then shall a deed be done and a word said between us twain, Hungwar, son of Regner; and until then, farewell." And with that Wulnoth turned and plunged into the woodlands, and the Danes returned to their camp.
Now, this is how Wahrmund the Dane gave his life to save his friend, and this is how Wulnoth the Wanderer made himself known to Hungwar, the son of Regner Lodbrok.
Now, on through the forest pressed Wulnoth, and his heart was heavy within him because of the dying of Wahrmund his friend, and he thought to himself that now he would seek the West Saxons and fight for them, and that this would be right, seeing that he also was Saxon.
"This Hungwar has cast me out," he mused, "so none may say that I am false in the doing of this; for a man must side with some, and since it cannot be with Hungwar it must be against him."
And then he thought that all this must be fixed from of old, and he laughed.
"No cause have I to love these black Danes," he said, "and no cause to love the sons of Regner Lodbrok. I will seek this Alfred, and perchance I may find him mightier than Hungwar, and so my rede will be read."
But then he thought that Alfred himself had said that the White Christ was the mightiest of all, and at that he frowned. Not yet did Wulnoth feel any love for that Lord, and he was too honest to pretend to a faith which he did not possess—not even for Edgiva would he do that.
"A man's word is as a man's honor," he said, "and a man's honor should be as a man's life. I will not tell my Princess that I love her Lord until I can feel that He is my Lord indeed."
"Then there you are foolish, Wanderer," said a mocking voice in his ear, and he turned, his hand on his sword, to see beside him that strange being so like himself, who had taken his name and fought with him in the past days.
"You here!" he cried sternly. "Have I not bidden thee leave me and trouble me no more?"
"As well bid your shadow leave you, Wanderer," was the answer he received. "Said I not to you that I would be with you—that I would be your servant? Now you have been foolish, and much trouble has come from it. Of old you might have possessed this Princess, and now you may do so—for what matters it what faith you profess, seeing that they all are equally vain. Go to this Alfred, declare you are a Christian, marry the Princess, and all will be well."
"Thou tempter, so like myself that thou seemest my very double!" cried Wulnoth. "I will not listen to such base words."
"Base words! Foolish thought! Does not the wise man get that which he covets in the easiest way? Still, if thou art so tender in thy conscience, I will tell thee another way—a way like unto that which heroes have practised from of old."
"What is thy way?" asked Wulnoth suspiciously, for he liked not this man's counsel. And the other answered—
"This is my way, Wanderer, and 't is counsel fit for hero to hear. As thou goest on thy road thou shalt find a band of masterless men, good fighters every one. Now make thyself leader of these, and be no man to Saxon or Dane. There is land to be won by strong hand and keen sword, and thou canst carry off thy Princess, as many a jarl has carried off his wife."
"Now, out on thee for a base churl!" cried Wulnoth angrily. "What! I carry off my Princess? By Thor, we fight again for that!"
"And, by Thor, I will win thee," laughed the other. "For here we have no light to throw crosses on the ground. 'T is my time, and my hour, and I will conquer, and thou shalt carry off the Princess as I have said."
So there again these two fought, as they had fought so often before, and now the stranger seemed much the stronger, strong though Wulnoth was, and he laughed aloud, and cried—
"O Wanderer, thou hast denied the White Christ and called Him nithing, and His sign shall not help thee now."
"Who art thou who hast my name and my form?" gasped Wulnoth hoarsely. "Who art thou who thus seekest to war with me though I have beaten thee before? This time I will kill thee."
"Nay, that thou wilt not. Because thou hast beaten me, therefore fight I still. When I have conquered, then we will be at peace. As for who I am, I have told thee that I am Wulnoth, son of Cerdic, and if thou art also Wulnoth, then we are one, and Wulnoth is Wulnoth's foe. So read my riddle if thou canst—and now I have conquered."
And with that the stranger threw Wulnoth and rested on him, one knee on his chest and one hand at his throat, and his dagger gleamed high in the air.
But Wulnoth stretched out his hand and gripped his sword, which he had let slip. And lo, he picked it up blindly and held it aloft, and it was hilt up, and the hilt was crossed after the manner of a champion's weapon.
"'T is the White Christ's sign!" he gasped, as his eyes fell upon it; and as he spoke his strength seemed to return, and he flung the stranger from him and rose joyfully, and the stranger fled away into the darkness, crying as he fled, "Lost! Lost! Lost!"
"This sign is a wonderful sign," thought Wulnoth. "I must think more of it, for how can the White Christ be so weak if His sign is so powerful? I must truly think more of this."
Now, for a night and a day did Wulnoth wander, seeking to find the way to the lake and the island whereon was the church where the dead King was buried, but he searched in vain and his heart grew weary.
It was a dreadful country in which he found himself—flat and broken with many a stream, and marshy, so that the feet sank in ooze, and at night white mists rose, like ghosts from the fens, and encircled all things, and chilled him to the bone; yet still he pushed on, seeing only ruins and the handwork of the Danes. And so he journeyed until he came to better land, where he found people.
But none could tell him of the island with its church, or if they could, they would not, for all looked upon him with suspicion, and many cursed him for a Northland haco and bade him begone, lest he find his death-sleep through tarrying.
Sometimes Wulnoth felt angry at this, but he thought of the hard things these people had suffered, and that it was but natural they should view him with distrust, and so he went his way.
Yet not all spoke so; some were kindly and gave him shelter, but none could tell him of the King of the West Saxons beyond saying that they had heard how he and the Atheling had travelled swiftly back into their kingdom of Wessex. So on Wulnoth pushed, asking his way, for since he could not find Edgiva, the next best thing to do was to find Alfred.
And in a dense wood he came, as the stranger had said he would, upon a band of masterless men seated around a fire; and they started up and asked him who he was, and demanded his money, at which Wulnoth laughed.
"Why, friends," he said, "if you never get richer than I shall make you, you will stay poor, for of money have I none, who am but a wanderer—a nameless and a landless man."
"Then thou art as a brother to us," the others said; "and come thou and join us, for thou dost look a likely man, Wanderer."
Then the Wanderer sat down by their fire, and he looked upon their bold, rugged faces and saw that they were men hardened in war, and fighters each and all, and he said—
"Fain would I join you if you would join me." And at that they asked him what his words might mean.
"This do I mean," he answered calmly. "There are strangers in this land playing your game, and playing it better than ye can. The Black Strangers give the land to fire and sword so that the flames run from east to west, until they slack their thirst in the farther waters; and the heart of this people is weak as water. Men are wanted—fighters—and, methinks, to stay here and harry those who are harried, and rob those who are robbed, is but a nithing's game, and with no glory in it. I go to find the King of Saxons, and offer my sword to him. Come ye with me and be men, and strike for your land instead of warring against it."
And then did he tell them of the cruel works of the Danes, until they started up and said that it was a good word which he had spoken, and that they would go forth with him and offer their swords to the King.
"But where is the King?" one asked; and another answered—
"He tarries nigh Welandes Smithan, with Osburga, his lady mother; and there, close to the White Horse, shall we find him."[5]
"Then let us go forward at once," cried the rest. "Only we go not nigh Welandes Smithan by night, for 't is an evil spot and haunted by night-hags and ghosts. Long should I walk, if I had to wait for riding until the elf smith shod my horse."
"Who, then, is this Wieland, that ye fear?" asked Wulnoth, curiously; and the robbers answered that none knew, that none ever saw him, but that if any man went to his forge, which was only a number of mighty stones set on the bleak moor, and placed a piece of money on one stone and tied his horse to another, and then went his way, that when he returned, if he had been faithful and had not sought to pry, there the horse would be shod, and the money gone, though never a man could there be seen in the place.
"The good Lord shield us from all such wizardry," cried one robber; and Wulnoth stared at that. "The good Lord!" Then these robbers held that the White Christ was greater than the wizards and night-hags and the ghost smith of Wieland's forge!
"Where tarries the King himself?" he asked. "Surely 't is he whom we should seek, and not the Atheling."
"The King is gone to his house at Winchester, I hear, there to take counsel with his thanes and ealdormen in the Witenagemot. For, mark you this, Wanderer—if these black strangers come into our good Wessex, they will find us fiercer fighters than were those of East Anglia."
"Ay, that is your fault," said Wulnoth. And the robbers looked surprised.
"Our fault? What—that we fight well?"
"Now, nay," answered Wulnoth, with a smile, "for that is no fault, but that ye are so divided amongst yourselves into East and West Saxons, and men of Mercia and Northumbria. These Danes come as one, and they come like clouds of flies, and they will eat up one place at a time, when, if ye were all bound together, they could not stand before you. There will be hard work before us before we drive them out, and there will be hero deeds and death-songs for many a one."
"And what could man want better?" laughed the robbers. "Come, let us march, and—the best song for the best man."
So Wulnoth, instead of being alone, now found himself with fifty good fighters, and though he was not their captain, they were going at his advice, and that was something.
For six days they marched on, mostly by night, and through the wild lands; for, as the robbers said, they were nameless men, and if any ealdorman or thane heard of their presence near his hold, he might sally out and make an end of them for being robbers, and hang their leaders on the nearest trees, without waiting to hear of what they were thinking of doing.
"Not but what they make us what we are, ofttimes," growled the captain. "For, look you, I am a Sethcundman. For four generations, father and son, we held our five hydes, and each hyde of a hundred good acres; and if that does not make us Sethcundmen and gentle, then what does? Yet down on our land came Seward, son of Beorn,[6] son of the bear, and he seized our holdings and drove us out. What wonder that we reply by robbing, since we have been robbed? Look at Sigwad yonder—he could not pay the tax when the King's house-carls called for it; and lo, they sold all he had, and his wife died on the wayside. Thus do we, who are of the people, grow discontented, and meet violence with violence, giving blow for blow."
"But while the rich oppress you, you oppress the poor, your brethren," answered Wulnoth; "and that is but a poor thing in my eyes. But perchance now, if we do our part in this business, those who are great will see that those who are beneath them are men. Why, yonder black strangers would not hold together a month if the chiefs looked down on the warriors. But hark, methought I heard the sound of a horn in the woods yonder. What may that be?"
"Some following the hunt, most like," came the answer; "yet we will wait awhile and see what goes forward."
So amongst the bushes they sank down; for there was nothing to be gained in going forward, if that meant going to struggle with their own countrymen; and Wulnoth, accompanied by the captain, went on to spy out the peril ahead.
On through the glades they went; and presently they came to one wherein they saw a great boar, a waster of the woods, standing savagely at bay, the while two gallant hounds stood before it.
Brave dogs were they; but one was sorely ripped by those gleaming tusks, and the other stood over him, barking defiance.
"An unequal fight!" cried Wulnoth, lifting his spear. But the robber caught his hand.
"Thou fool!" he said. "Most like some great thane hunts the boar, and do you think he would thank you for slaying it? Wait. See, here he comes."
A young man sprang into the glade, cheering on his dog, but the boar broke upon the hound and tore it, and then came towards the man, who awaited it, spear in hand.
"Why!" cried the robber—"see, 't is the Atheling, and his sickness is upon him. See, see—the boar has him now, for sure."
And Wulnoth, looking, saw the Prince place his hand to his head and stagger, as one who has been too long at the ale horn; the point of his spear dropped, he made an effort to recover himself, and then he fell to the earth, right in the track of the waster!
"He is dead now!" cried the robber. "That brute will have the hope of the West Saxons, and nothing can hinder it."
"That we will see!" answered Wulnoth, and he made a cast, a mighty cast, such as, of old, Osth the giant had taught him to throw; and his spear sang, and smote that foaming, ravening monster full in the flank, and passed on and split his grim, savage heart in twain; and the waster fell, its great snout just reaching to the senseless man's breast.
"By Thor, a good cast," cried Wulnoth, drawing his knife and leaping forward. "Follow me, friend, and let us make sure the brute is dead."