Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune<br />A Tale of the Days of Edmund Ironside by A. D. Crake (classic books for 13 year olds .txt) 📖

There were loving messages for wife and children, and Alfgar was not forgotten.

But there was one piece of information contained in the letter which made Alfgar very uneasy, and reminded him of his dream.

One Boom, a retainer of Elfwyn, had been taken prisoner by the Danes, and by a very uncommon piece of good fortune had escaped with life from his ferocious captors. He stated that he had been closely examined concerning his home, character of the population, and their means of defence, especially as to the events of St. Brice's night. Although he strove to evade their questions, yet he incautiously, or through fear of torture, revealed that he came from Aescendune.

The name evoked immediate interest, and he was asked several further questions about the destruction of Anlaf's house, and what became of his son. He tried to baffle their inquiries, and thought he had succeeded.

These facts the Lady Hilda thought of sufficient importance to justify their communication to Alfgar. They caused her some anxiety.

The messenger returned to the army. Weeks passed away, and the women and children, as well as the old men, were all busy in getting in the bounteous harvest with which this year God had blessed the earth. Alfgar and Bertric worked like the theows themselves, and slowly the precious gifts were deposited in the garners.

Alfgar had one source of consolation in the love he bore to Ethelgiva, a love which was fully returned. Their troth had been pledged to each other with the full consent of Elfwyn and the Lady Hilda; and on those fine August nights, as they walked home after the labours in the field, or the service in the priory, they forgot all the misery of the land, and lived only for each other.

Happy, happy days! How often they looked back to them afterwards!

A second messenger came during harvest time from the camp, now on the borders of Sussex. His news was no better than before. The Danes were harassing the army on every side, but no decisive battle had been fought. The enemy still seemed to know all the plans of the English beforehand; and the booty they had gained was enormous, while a deep distrust of their leaders was spreading amongst the defenders of the soil.

Elfwyn expressed his intention of seeking an early leave of absence should events justify him in paying a short visit home. This delighted the hearts of his wife and children, and they were happy in anticipation.

It was a fine day in September when the thankful people of Aescendune were called to raise the song of "Harvest Home"--for the fruits of the earth had indeed been safely gathered in ere the winter storms by the hands of women and children. Such joy as befitted the absence of their lords was theirs, and Alfgar and Bertric, not to waste the holiday, agreed to have a day's hunting in the forest, rich with all the hues of autumn, while the feast was preparing at home.

The day was delightful. Two young theows, whose fathers had gone to the war, but who had been left behind as being too young to share its dangers, although in the flush of early youth, accompanied them, and were soon loaded with the lighter game their masters had killed, while a deer they had slain was hung in the trees, where a wolf could not reach it, and where wayfarers were not likely to pass until the sportsmen should return for their own. Onward they wandered until the sun was declining, and then, having some few miles of forest to thread, and the deer to send for, they turned on their homeward way.

No thought of any danger was on their minds that day. The Danes were too far distant. They were more than a hundred miles from the seat of war, and a hundred miles in those days meant more than five hundred would mean now.

About the hour of five they rested and bathed in a tributary of the Avon. Bertric's spirits were very high: he laughed and talked like one whose naturally ardent temperament was stimulated by the bracing atmosphere and the exercise. His active and handsome frame, bright with all the attractions of youth, was equal to any amount of woodland toil; and Alfgar, who was, as we have said, deeply attached to his companion, felt proud of his younger brother, as he delighted to call him, and Bertric loved to be called so. Alfgar trusted some day to have a yet better claim to the title.

Leaving the bathing place while there was yet time to reach home before dark, they came at last to a ford across the stream, the only spot where it could be safely forded, and as such known to the natives of the vicinity; when their dogs began to whine, and to run with their noses to the ground, as if they had found something unusual to attract their attention.

The two theows who were in front paused at the ford till their lords came up, and then pointed to the ground with a terrified aspect. Alfgar gazed and started, as did Bertric. There were the footmarks of a large number of horses, evidently belonging to a body of horsemen who must have crossed the ford since they passed it in the morning.

"Can my father have returned unexpectedly?" said Bertric. "He said he should get an early leave of absence."

Alfgar did not answer for a moment. He was evidently very much alarmed.

"Look," he said, "at the footmarks, where some have dismounted."

Bertric looked, and comprehended the terror of his companion. The armed heels, which had sunk deeply into the mud, had left traces utterly unlike the marks to which they were accustomed in similar cases.

The stories they had both heard of predatory bands of Danes who had wandered far from their main body, and had sought gratification for their lust for plunder and blood in remote spots where the inhabitants dwelt in fancied security, came to their minds, and also the inquiries which had been made in the Danish camp concerning their home and the circumstances of St. Brice's fatal night.

"Still, it may be our father and his men; they may have worn the spoils of the enemy."

The spoils generally went the other way, Alfgar thought, but did not say.

They crossed the ford in silence, intent only on reaching home. For a long time they could follow the trail of the horsemen.

"Who can lead them?" said Bertric, as they bounded onward. "They seem to know the country."

A sad and harrowing suspicion had filled Alfgar's mind, that these men might be deputed to avenge the fiery death of his father --and to avenge it, probably, on the very people who would have died to prevent it.

But the one desire uppermost in the minds of the whole party was to hasten home. They feared every moment that they might see the bright flame through the trees, or that the wind might bring them the tidings that they were all too late--too late to save those whom they loved from outrage and death.

So they continued running, or walking when breath failed, at the utmost speed they could command, and just as the sun set they arrived at the crest of a hill, from which they could see the hall.

"Thank God, it yet stands!" said they both.

They descended, and plunged again into the wood which lay between them and the goal; their theows, less perfectly trained, and perhaps less ardent, fell slightly behind. They came upon the spot where they had left the deer, not, however, with any intention of encumbering themselves with the burden, as may be imagined. They looked, however, at the tree where they had hung the carcase, and their eyes met each other's.

"It is gone," said Alfgar, with bated breath.

They said no more, but continued their headlong course, until they had reached an open glade by the side of a small stream. Here their dogs became uneasy, and uttered low threatening growls.

The lads paused, then advanced cautiously, looking before and around.

Turning a corner round some thick underwood, they came suddenly upon a sight which justified all their previous alarm.

A huge fire burned by the side of a brook, over which was roasting the deer which they had killed. The light shone out in the gathering darkness, and illumined the recesses of the bushes around, and the faces of a large body of men reclining on the bank, or engaged in the task of sharpening their arms while their supper was roasting. A momentary glance told that they were Danes, thus advancing under the shadow of the forest, to take their foes unawares. Their horses were picketed around, and sentinels were evidently posted, to give the first alarm of any danger.

Alas! they had seen the poor lads before they could withdraw into the woods which fringed the path, and instantly prepared for pursuit. Three or four jumped upon their horses, two or three more plunged into the wood to cut off the retreat. It was all-important to their plans that their presence should not be discovered; and these manoeuvres were executed in perfect silence.

They had not seen the theows behind, but fixed all their attention on Bertric and Alfgar, who, on their part, comprehending their danger, turned at right angles into the wood, and ran for life. The boys were fleet of foot, and would probably have distanced their pursuers, but an arrow from some ambush on their left hand pierced Alfgar's thigh, wounding an important muscle, and he could run no farther.

"Leave me, leave me, Bertric," he cried; "you are in more danger than I."

Poor Bertric would not leave his friend. He tried to assist him, and turned a deaf ear to all solicitations for the few moments that they could have availed. It was soon too late, and the heavy hands of the Danish warriors were laid upon them.

Shuddering at the contact, they yet yielded without useless and unmanly resistance, and were at once led to the side of the fire.

It was a scene Salvator Rosa would have loved to paint: the firelight bringing out in strong relief the huge limbs of the oak trees, the bronzed faces of those dread warriors, which no pitiful or tender feelings ever seemed to visit.

The theows had fortunately, being behind, taken the alarm in time, and escaped unnoticed by the Danes.

A large athletic warrior, but yet a man of some age, rose from his seat by the fire, and scrutinised the captives. Alfgar knew him. It was Sidroc, an old fellow warrior of his father, who had often visited their home near Aescendune, and he was at no loss now to comprehend the object of their enterprise.

The warrior gazed upon him fixedly, and then spoke aloud.

"Whence your name and lineage? Your face is not of the hue of the faces of the children of the land. Speak! who art thou?"

"Alfgar, the son of Anlaf."

"Thor and Woden be praised! We had learned that you yet lived. Boy, thou art the object of our search. Thou, the descendant of kings, mayst not longer dwell with slaves. Thy father is at hand."

"My FATHER!"

"Yes. Didst thou not know that he escaped on St. Brice's night, baffling his would-be assassins, and yet lives? He thought thee dead, and only sought vengeance, when he heard from the captured prisoner of Elfwyn's band that thou wert yet alive, and he is come to seek thee."

Poor Alfgar!

For a few minutes Alfgar sat like one stunned by the intelligence. Joy and fear were strangely mingled together; well did he remember Sidroc's frequent visits to his father's English home, and that the warrior had more than once taken him in his infancy upon his knee and sung to him war songs, telling him that he too must be a warrior some day.

He was roused from his reverie by the voice of Sidroc.

"Who is your companion?"

"Bertric, the son of Elfwyn of Aescendune; oh! you will see that no wrong is done to him, will you not? his people saved my life."

"That they might make you a Christian, knowing that your father would sooner you had expired in the flames which consumed his house.

"No," he added sternly; "he is doomed, he and his alike."

Alfgar uttered a piteous cry, and appealed so earnestly that one might have thought he would have moved a heart of stone, yet all in vain.

"Does the eagle mourn over the death of the dove, or heed what pangs the kid may suffer which writhes beneath its talons? If you are of the race of warrior kings, act like one."

While this was going on the warriors had been selecting some light and sharp arrows and stringing their bows.

"You have but one target, not two," cried Sidroc, "and scant time wherein to use it."

"Then you shall have two, for I will die with him," cried Alfgar, comprehending at once that the death by which Saint Edmund of