Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune<br />A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan by A. D. Crake (ebook reader with highlight function txt) 📖

“There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will find they cannot cross it.”

“Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse.”

“There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and true man.”

“Then lead us to it at once,” replied Dunstan.

Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored Dunstan not to endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid no attention. They reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and the east was bright with rosy light. It was such a place as the great king, after whom Alfred was named, had found refuge in when pressed by the Danes. It was poor, but neat and clean beyond the usual degree; and when the wants of their early visitors were known, and Dunstan was recognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause.

All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he was manifestly too shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving him his fatherly blessing, Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on, leaving him in the care of Oswy.

They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their own horses were comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, and those of their foes would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ride along the Foss Way, and their exertions to pass the stream.

So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that, gaining the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, on their part, beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spur their horses on.

It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of a mile or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, although it must be remembered that a false step or slip, or any accident, would have been fatal.

“I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town,” xxv said the guide; “but if the abbot has no objection, I should prefer leaving them to pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route, which I have often travelled; it is a very good one.”

“By all means,” said Dunstan, “and then we may slacken this furious pace.”

They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a track of dry stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a wild heath, put a copse between them and the enemy, who did not this time discover for miles the absence of the footprints, for the soil was very dry and hard, the storm not having passed that way, and the foe were intent upon hard riding.

So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from which they obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and the western sun, sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe, reddened the waters with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethren thanked God.

“We have come to the setting sun,” said they, “and at eventide have seen light; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us.”

But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, would allow them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing village on the coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was just about to put out for an evening’s fishing, but at the earnest request of his visitors, backed by much gold, he consented to take them over to the opposite coast.

“The weather promises to be very clear and fine,” he said; “and we may sail across without any danger.”

It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor was loosed, the sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly out to sea. They were quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. At last they heard the sound of horsemen galloping on the fast-receding shore, and looking back, they saw twelve riders reach the beach, and pause, looking wistfully out to sea.

“Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; the snare is broken, and we are delivered,” said Dunstan.

“Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven and earth,” replied Father Guthlac.

Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were broken, he was only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his earnest wish to return home, but his host would not permit him, saying he should have to answer to Dunstan some day for his guest.

The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet not unpleasantly: there were a thousand things to observe in the woods and marshes around, full of animal life.

Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove his cattle forth to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, and Alfred would willingly have gone, too, but they told him he must rest. So he took his breakfast of hot milk and bread, with oat cakes baked on the hearth, and waited patiently till the warmth of the day tempted him out, under the care of Oswy, to watch the distant herd, to drink of the clear spring or recline under some huge spreading beech, while the breeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him pleasantly to sleep.

At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such inferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place, contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then there was far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had no cause to complain of the cowherd’s table.

Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself with the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing earnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they heard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared in sight.

Alfred rose up eagerly.

“Are they safe?” he cried.

“Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers got to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above.”

“Did they try to follow?”

“They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage.”

Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked up in the face of the guide.

“Will you guide us home?” he said.

“Yes,” was the reply; “the holy abbot particularly desired me to return to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and if you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to Æscendune, for we are not worth following.”

“Then let us start tomorrow morning,” said Alfred, longing to be once more in his old father’s presence, and to cheer his mother’s heart.

They returned together to the cowherd’s cottage, and slept peacefully that night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way, crossing the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well rested and full of spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still empty and desolate, in the middle of the day, and retraced by easy stages the whole of Alfred’s previous route from home.

After a week’s easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, they reached the neighbourhood of Æscendune: it had never looked so lovely, so home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full of joy, and as he was recognised by person after person, by his favourite dogs as they bounded forth, and finally fell into his mother’s arms at the gate of the hall, he experienced feelings which in these days, when we are all so familiar with the thought of travel, can seldom be realised.

Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to an admiring audience, who listened enraptured to his account of the holiness of Dunstan and the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily be imagined that he made no allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; and Oswy, instructed by his young master, was equally silent.

He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could do no good to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, and how nearly he had been the involuntary instrument of his brother’s death.

“God can change his heart,” said Alfred to himself, “and bring him home like the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so often.”

So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many a supplication on his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Time will show whether they were lost.