Wulnoth the Wanderer
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And other strange piles of stones they found on their march, each of which had some dreadful legend of ghost or elfin power attached to it, but which, in these days, we know to be only the tombs of a strange people long since past away. And so, at last, they came to a place called Ashdune, a wide sweeping plain, with but one single tree in it, and that tree a great straggling thorn bush, growing nigh the centre. And there, on the verge of the plain, they encamped for the night, and on the opposite side they could see the watch fires of the invaders, and count their banners waving to the wind.
Wild were the shouts from the Danish camp that night, for the holdas drank deeply, as was their custom, and they called out the names of their dead heroes, and the songs were sung in their honor by the scalds as the warriors drank to the war game and the sword song, and vowed that with the rising of the sun they would make an end of the men of Wessex, and lay the land low in fire.
Such was the way in which Wulnoth had been wont to spend the night before the battle, but in the camp of the Saxons it was not so. Sparingly the soldiers drank, and the Atheling took nothing but water; and while watch was kept the Abbot Hugoline came amongst the ranks and prayed, and the men knelt and crossed their hands upon their breasts, and the monks sang to Him Whom they called "The Lord God, great and terrible, and mighty in battle"; and that made Wulnoth the more perplexed, for he saw not how the gentle Lord Christ could be terrible in battle.
And then did he see Bishop Eadred all girt in armor, and with a mighty mace in his hand, and thereat he wondered more than ever, for he had not thought to see a priest armed to fight like a warrior.
But the Bishop laughed and said, "Who should fight for the Church but those who are her most loving servants? Who should fight for the sheep against the ravening wolves but those who are set over the flock as shepherds?" And Wulnoth said to himself that this Bishop was a man, and that he saw the service of the White Christ did not make a man become a nithing.
And also he looked at the Prince, and the Atheling looked mighty in his war gear. Usually he looked pale, seeing that he had a sickness which forever kept him in pain; but now all thought of pain was gone, and he laughed right joyously as he looked abroad at the field whereon the battle would be waged, and he said —
"Now, truly, this is a sight for the heart of any warrior, and great deeds will be done to-day, and yonder heathen foe will be valiant. Yet remember, soldiers, that we fight for much – not for life only, but for freedom, for our hearths and families, for our wives, our sisters, our mothers, and daughters. Strike for them a good blow and true, and never let it be said of one 'This man was a nithing.' See yonder" – and he pointed across the plain – "see, there waves the magic banner of Regner Lodbrok – there the raven of Odin flaunts his wings. But here is the sign of the Lord," and he pointed to the cross which a priest held, "and we will see which is mightier this day – Odin or our Lord."
"Now," thought Wulnoth, "that is a sign, and we will see, for truly the foe is the greater and should beat us, for there are many holdas of fame there. Well, we may see, and may I come near to Hungwar, Regner's son, this day."
Then did the war-horns blare and shriek, and the armies moved forward. And first the bowmen sent their arrows hissing like hail, and many a barbed shaft bit deeply and drank its fill of the red blood, but the warriors held their shields and caught the arrows thereon, and laughed, and no nithing was found in the ranks of either side.
Then, as they drew nearer, the spears began to hurtle through the air and join the arrows, and the Valkyrs – those grim storm sisters who love the battlefield and who wait to carry the souls of the heroes to the storm-land – gathered, and floated above the field of slaughter, where the thirsty earth already began to turn red as the victims fell.
But this was but the beginning – the game was hardly started – the fierce, mad sport was to come later.
For now, sweeping forward, came ranks of champions armed with axe, with sword, and shield, and they ran to meet each other, and the strokes fell like hail, and the pikes gored like the horns of angry bulls.
Now Wulnoth had schooled his men, and they drew together in shape like a wedge, with Wulnoth and the captain at the point of it; and so a long line of shields linked each to each, a long line of axes rising and falling, or swinging upwards from beneath, they drove into the heart of the Danish ranks, and then, opening out, swept the vikings into a mass of struggling disordered men, who hardly had room to move and who mixed friend with foe in their fury.
Oh, great were the deeds done that day, and truly did the Atheling behave like a hero in the fight as he led his men, crying encouragement, pressing wherever the game was the hottest, and seeming to be in a score of places at once.
And bravely fought the King, and he singled out the great Danish champion, King Bacseg, and he called to him and said —
"Greeting, King! I would fain talk with thee." And thereat did the Dane laugh and answer —
"Greeting! Blithely will I listen to thy talk."
Then these twain fell to, and they smote each other lusty blows and made their swords sing a loud song; yet the King of Wessex was the mightier in the conflict, and he smote King Bacseg to the ground, and smote yet again, crying —
"Die, thou fell pirate of Denmark! Die, and let this good English soil find thee a resting-place."
Now, this took place nigh to the thorn bush, and there was a rush of the Danes to rescue the body of their dead King, so that King Ethelred was borne backward, and was like to have been slain himself but that Wulnoth and his fifty came sweeping down, and formed a wall between the King and the foe.
Then thither hastened all the mighty ones of both sides. There stood Bishop Eadred, and his mace dripped with Danish blood; and there stood Ethelred the Ealdorman, and Osric; and there, against them, as the waves rush against the rocks, came the heroes of Denmark. There came Sidroc the elder, and his son; there came Osbern and Frena; there also came Oskettle and Harold, and not one of them but had made his name a terror, and had carried fire and sword to many a fair spot; and now they came raging towards the spot where the body of King Bacseg lay, crying for vengeance against his slayer.
And thither also came Hungwar, foaming like a bear and rolling his angry eyes, and behind him rose the banner of Regner. And when Wulnoth saw him he cried aloud —
"Ho, tarry, thou Danish pirate, thou killer of children. For now I will give thee such a greeting as thou hast never had before. I have a message to thee from the dead King of Lethra, and from Wahrmund my friend, and thou hast still the mark of my weapon upon thy face. Stay, Hungwar! I call to thee to stay, as I called to Osbert in the days of old!"
And Hungwar heard, and he raged like a berserker, but he came not to Wulnoth, for in his heart he feared him more than all the warriors of Wessex.
And now the fight went against the Danes, and Bishop Eadred smote down Sidroc the elder, and Osric smote down Sidroc the younger and Oskettle. And Ethelred the King, he smote Frena; and Alfred the Atheling laid Osbern low.
And all around that thorn tree the dead lay piled high like unto a wall, Saxon and Dane, still clutching each other in the last fierce hand-grips of death. And the fighters were weary with slaughter and the swords tired of their song. And then, for the first time in any decisive battle since their landing, the Danes broke and retreated, and Hungwar led them, galloping off on his war-horse and waving his arms as if the evil spirit had entered into him. And so ended the battle, and the Saxons were the masters of the field of slaughter.
And yet it was at great cost, for many were slain, and while the Danes could bring a score for each one dead, the men of Wessex were few, and the men of Mercia and Northumbria were jealous of them, and would have joyed to see them beaten, and would not come to their aid.
So back went the King and the Atheling and their soldiers, and the eagles and the crows gathered over the field of slaughter, and the wolf howled for joy from the forest as he called his brethren to the feast, smelling the blood from afar.
But Wulnoth looked to where, far away, he saw the Raven of Odin in retreat, and he looked to the cross which the priests carried before the army, and he remembered his words and felt that the White Christ was the strongest, and that they who served Him were no nithings, when it came to making the sword sing and playing the man's game.
Now, this is how the Danes were beaten by the Saxons of Wessex on the field of slaughter which is called Ashdune, and this is how the Raven of Odin fled from the sign of the White Christ.
CHAPTER XVII
The Passing of Ethelred the King
Now, though the men of Wessex had beaten the Danes with a great slaughter at the battle of Ashdune, little rest did the weary land have from the war-song, but day by day the sword gleamed and the red flames roared, and the Black Strangers came in foraying bands.
Like the leaves before the wind, like the snow on the northern blast, so did the Danes seem to gather, until even the boldest and the bravest felt their hearts fail, and asked each other what could be done to free the land from these savage, barbarian invaders, who seemed like to swamp the whole world and plunge it back into paganism again.
And now the men of Mercia, and those of Northumbria and Cantua, had occasion to lament that they had not joined with Wessex, and, forgetting their own quarrels, striven side by side against the common foe. For to every part of the fair land the Danes marched, and their pathway was death and ruin, and of them the English said —
"Of what use is it to war against them, for if there be thirty thousand slain to-day, there will be twice thirty thousand in their place to-morrow?"
Yet, for all that, did Ethelred the King, and Alfred his brother, fight as brave men should, calling upon all their men to trust in the Lord and be of good cheer; and, whilst in other parts of the land the invaders were striking terror to all hearts, in the land of the West Saxons they were frequently driven back and put to flight.
But it was hard work and sad; for the hands of the strongest must grow weary, and the hearts of the mightiest must fail sometimes; and there was no rest for King or for Prince. To-day they would face the foe in one place, and the next they would be in rapid march to strike an unexpected blow in quite another direction.
But the land wept, for there was no corn sown and no harvest to reap, because men said that there was little wisdom in sowing fields that were to be trampled down in the war game, or in storing in barns, through which the red flames might leap.
Oh! those were sad days, when hunger and despair and battle were on every hand; and still, on and on the Danes pressed, and their long ships were on every coast and barring all the rivers, and even floating up to London itself.
And a merry game did Wulnoth and his robber companions play, though alas, now of that fifty but half remained. To-day here, to-morrow there, hurrying at the King's behest, enduring fatigue and peril with laughter, and doing hero deeds that rivalled the best of the Danish holdas' achievements.
Little of Edgiva did Wulnoth see in those days, but at night, when he rested with his band in the forest depths, or lay counting the watchful stars, then he would think of his Princess, and in fancy see her face, and he would dream a good dream of the days that should be, when England was England once more.
Yet never did he forget the friend of his boyhood and the promise he had made; and he wondered when and how he should ever obtain tidings of Guthred the Prince.
"I can go but one step at a time," he murmured to himself. "This helping of Alfred is the first thing, and afterwards we will think of what may follow it." And then he would sit by the watch fire, while his rough companions lay around; and he would think, and think, of the White Christ, and the wonder story of His great love, and His death on the cross; and now he no longer called it a nithing tale, but thought it beautiful as the best of the sagas; and though he said naught of it to any, nor even let Edgiva know when he saw her, Wulnoth was beginning to understand, and to see that the Lord Christ was the mightiest, and the greatest, and the best, and indeed the very Bretwalda of all the angels.
But little time was there for thinking even on that matter; for it was fight, fight, day by day; now hunted, and now hunting – at this moment the Raven of Odin victorious, and the next the banner of Ethelred triumphant.
And in one battle did the forces meet at a place called Merton, not far from Ashdune; and there, while they strove, and now to one side now to the other the victory inclined, Ethelred the King was smitten by a spear, and fell wounded from his horse; and Wulnoth, and Osric, and Alfred, raised him up tenderly, and bore him from the field of slaughter, and then rushed back and threw themselves upon the foe, fighting fiercely until, when the evening shadows came, the Danes were glad to retire; for they had met with those who could strive as well as themselves.
And then did the Saxons take their wounded King; and, commanded by Alfred, they retreated swiftly and silently, and with hearts bowed down by sadness, so that they might find a place where the King could rest in safety.
And then did the King call his brother the Atheling to his side, and he spoke with him tenderly, and bade him be comforted.
"How could man die better than face to foe, striving for his country, and for the blessed Truth, dear brother?" he said. "Now I am wounded sore, and my spirit tells me that I shall die; and for that my heart rejoices, for by dying shall I gain a better crown than one of earthly power, and by death shall I enter into life."
And Alfred bowed his head and wept, for his heart was very sore now; and Wulnoth stood by, for his it was to guard the King's tent, and he wondered yet more and more; for here was a second King dying, and he also, like as Edmund had done, spoke of victory and life, and seemed glad and happy, and not like those of the Danes and the Old Saxons, who only spoke of going to the dark storm-land.
But they could not tarry long where the King lay, for the foe pressed too hard; and so they hurried southwards, and the army broke into small parties, that they might travel the more swiftly and securely. And so they came south by Winchester, the King's town, and even there they did not stay, but passed on into the land of Durnovaria, or as we now call it Dorchester. And there did the King tarry, for he was too sick to journey farther, though there was some talk of reaching the sea, and sending him afar into safety. But his wounds were bad, and his strength was gone, and his mind weary for his kingdom, and for the land at large, and for the faith of the Lord; and he knew that he must soon pass hence, and be at peace.
And to him came his aged mother Osburga, whom neither grief, nor peril, nor weariness could conquer; and she, and the Abbot Hugoline, and Alfred, they tended the King in his last hours of pain and sorrow, and whispered words of good cheer to him, while Osric, and Ethelred the Ealdorman, went back with the forces, and made another stand against the foe, who pursued hard upon their track.
And there did King Ethelred breathe his last, and commit his soul into the keeping of his Saviour; and from there did they carry his body to the minster at Wimborne, and there did they bury the King.
And Alfred the Atheling had the crown placed upon his head, and became Alfred the King; and of all Saxon Kings, did he prove the best, and the bravest, and the wisest; so that in after days his fame was sung and he was called "The Great Thane" and "The Bretwalda of the English" and "The Shepherd of his people."
Yet on that very day whereon he was crowned did Wulnoth the Wanderer come upon him in the church; and lo, he knelt, and he prayed, and as he prayed he wept; and Wulnoth spoke with the King, for Alfred made a friend of the Wanderer, and he asked him why he wept.
"Thou art King now, and thou hast a kingdom, and thou hast men to fight, and thou thyself art a warrior; wherefore, then, dost thou weep, O King?"
"Heavy is it to be a King, friend," the monarch answered, "and weary is the land wherein battle is ever raging; and great is the stewardship which I have. Therefore, I kneel in humbleness, and with tears I ask Him for help and for grace, that I may do my work and receive my reward."
"O King!" cried Wulnoth. "If thy God is the mightiest of gods, why does he not drive out the Danes, and scatter their host? I am puzzled, of a truth, O King, for I understand not this thing."
"And couldst thou understand all God's ways, then wouldst thou be as wise as God. Does the warrior understand all his captain's plans? Nay, he receives his order, and he obeys his command, and he trusts his captain enough to know that each order is given for a reason. So is it with us, O Wanderer. We trust and we obey, and the end is with Him. His ways are greater than our ways, and His thoughts than our thoughts."
Sad and solemn was the crowning of the King, for there was no pomp and stately show now, as there had been of yore. Scarcely had he thanes to stand around him; scarcely had he people to aid him; there was no time for such empty things as pageant now; for almost ere the body of King Ethelred was laid to its rest, there came tidings of new and fresh hosts of Danes sweeping over the land.
And bitter was it for Mercia then; for the Black Strangers became as a terror to the bravest, and all men trembled at their name.
Across the country to Lindum7 they swept; and from the sea other hosts poured into the land. They attacked and drove out King Burhred, and placed one named Ceolwulf in his place, as under-lord. Black and bitter was the treason of Ceolwulf the Thane, who had been Burhred's thane; for he, a Saxon, became a servant of the Danes; and of him it is said that he was fiercer than his masters, so that the land was laid waste.
And farther north, in Northumbria, the whole land was covered with the foe; and there Halfdane, whom some called Hungwar's brother, led his forces and destroyed without ruth as he went, burning every church and monastery, and even the beautiful cathedral of Lindisfarne; and while the flames roared, and the sword sang, the wail of women, and the shriek of tortured little children, rose to mingle with it, and hope and faith died out in the land.
But down in Wessex, still the light shone, and still brave hearts resisted; though often it was hard and bitter work, and from being able to stand before the Danes, the forces frequently had to hurry, driven from place to place, yet ever inspired by the King to fresh courage and endeavor.
And in those days did Wulnoth do mighty deeds, and earn himself a name amongst men, for being a hero; so that the Danes knew and feared; and Hungwar himself trembled; for he knew that the day would come when he and Wulnoth would meet face to face; and then it would be a bitter day and dark for him.
Now, this is how King Ethelred was wounded in battle, and died of his wounds; and this is how the crown passed to Alfred the Atheling, and the whole land, from north to south, was overrun by the Black Strangers, and given to fire and sword.
CHAPTER XVIII
Of the Coming back of Guthrun
Now, for nigh five years after King Alfred was crowned, did the land groan beneath the sword of the invaders; and everywhere there was battle; for when the Danes had none other to fight, then did they fight amongst themselves. And for nigh five years did Wulnoth lead amongst the King's chosen champions, and beat the foe back.
Seven years now had the Wanderer been in England, and yet he had gained no tidings of Guthred the Prince. Edgiva he saw several times, and sweet were their greetings, and dear the hours they spent together; but all too brief the time that was theirs.
Beautiful, with a wondrous beauty, was Edgiva now; and yet, though beautiful and a King's daughter, she was true to her lover, and would listen to no other suitors.
Yet still she would not give him her hand, nor did he ask it; for not yet had he owned that the Lord Christ was the greatest and noblest of all, and not yet was the land at rest; and Edgiva would not have him think of aught save his duty to his King and to the land.
"Oh! Wulnoth, my hero," she would say to him, "hard is thy task, but truly thou dost do it. And Wyborga, who grows wiser as she grows older, reveals to me that harder yet shall it be; and the King shall flee as a nameless man and a landless man, and thou shalt abide with him. But be brave, for through it all shalt thou come to victory and honor."
Then did Wulnoth kiss her fair hand, and answer, and say – "My Princess, I am thy watcher and thy servant, as I am thy faithful lover, and all that thou dost command, that will I strive to do."
Thus did the days pass and grow to years, and the years grew until five had passed; and then came Guthrun and a mighty host, marching towards Exeter, near which city the King lay with his forces. And when the army started to march, then from the mouth of the Thames their fleet sailed to the West, and from the sides of the long ships gleamed the shields of many warriors.
Now, the King of the West Saxons heard news of the marching of Guthrun's host, and of the sailing of the long ships, and he called his thanes and captains to counsel, and he said —
"Now we have two forces to meet, one by land and one by sea. Those on land march to Exeter, and those by sea will seek to land at the nearest spot."
"Wise are the Danes, O King," answered Wulnoth bitterly. "They know the weakest spot at which to strike. For this Exeter, is it not now menaced by the Britons from West Wales, and will they not help our foes?"
"We must trust in the mercy of the Lord, Wanderer," the King answered. "Would to God that all the inhabitants of this unhappy land would fight as brethren. We should soon thrust the Danes out then."8
"Little good to wish that, O King," cried one gaunt old warrior. And the King smiled.
"Ay, we will not waste time in idle wishes. Now this is my rede. Thou knowest that I have caused to be built long ships, like those which the Danes use. Now these lie at the coast towns; and I counsel that we man them and put to sea, and there trust to our God to give us the victory over this foe."
"And, meantime, the foe on land, O King?" cried Wulnoth.
"They will have reached the city, Wanderer, and there will they surely tarry, seeking perchance to make league with the Britons, and waiting for their friends to join them. Now mark you – if we are favored by Heaven, and can defeat the ships, we will play their own game. We will land from our ships and sweep towards Exeter, and give the city to the flame, and put them to the sword."
"By the bracelets of Odin, King," laughed Wulnoth, "thou art marking out a big task for thyself. But if this is in thy mind, I for one am well content to try it; and methinks I shall love to feel the ships leap over the waves, and to join in a sea-fight again."
So, all the thanes agreeing, the King and his forces hurried southward and got to their ships, and were ready to go on board and set sail, as soon as the foe appeared.
And presently, from afar, the sails appeared, and the hearts of some sank as they saw the number; yet the King prayed to Heaven for help, and made haste to prepare for battle.
In years long after, there was another little fleet of ships not so far from that very spot, waiting while a mighty armada came, stately and confident, up the Channel; and what happened then, happened also in the reign of Alfred the King.
For, as the fleet of Danish warships drew near, dark clouds gathered in the sky, and the tempest roared, and the wind blew, and the great waves grew, and thundered against the white cliffs, and the King pointed and cried —
"See, O friends, Heaven does not desert us; and what we are too weak to do, that God does in the strength of His might. Look, and doubt no more."