Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune Part 16

Now he sat up, and beheld, or thought he beheld, a figure of one clothed in the attire of a minstrel, in the centre of the chamber.

"Art thou yet in the flesh like me?" he cried, repressing a shudder.

"Even so, a being of like mould, subject to pain and death."

"A prisoner, then; art doomed to die?"

"No prisoner, neither art thou, if thou willest to escape."

"Thou art the gleeman who insulted Sweyn."

"Nay, who told the brutal tyrant the truth."

"And what doest thou here?"

"I am come to deliver thee."

"But how?"

"Rise up, cast on your garments."

Hardly knowing what he did, Alfgar obeyed, and when he stood face to face with the stranger, began to lose the uneasy impression that the being who addressed him was otherwise than mortal; for he saw by the light of the lamp that the gleeman bore all the attributes of a living man.

"How came you here?"

"Because I know the secrets of the prison house--knew them before the Danes had murdered the once happy dwellers in this garden of England, which they have made a howling wilderness; hence I escaped the wrath of the furious parricide, whom the saints destroy, with ease, and laughed in security at their vain efforts to take me; but we must waste no time; it yet wants five hours to daybreak; within those five hours we must reach the opposite sh.o.r.e."

"But tell me, I cannot understand, why hast thou braved the wrath of Sweyn? why hast thou cared for me?"

"All in good time, follow me now, I bid thee by the memory of Aescendune."

"Aescendune! surely I dream."

"Yes, of Aescendune. I have heard that thou art thence. Now waste no more time."

More and more mystified, for he had never to his knowledge seen the speaker before, Alfgar gazed at the gleeman.

He appeared of n.o.ble air and mien, but was evidently but a young man; he was somewhat above the average height, and looked as though he could wield the sword as well as the harp. But how were they to escape?

Alfgar was not left long in doubt. The stranger took up the lamp and walked to the farthest recess of the dungeon, where, concealed amongst the rude carvings with which the builders had ornamented the wall, was a rose carved in stone. The gleeman pressed it sharply, and a hidden door sprang open, revealing a winding staircase excavated in the solid wall.

"Upwards it leads to the banqueting hall, and you can comprehend my escape this evening," said he; "but our path is now downwards, unless you would like to go up and see the drunken beasts of murderers snoring off their debauch upon the floor as they fell; oh, that it were lawful for a Christian man to cut their throats as they lie; many innocent lives would be saved thereby, which those brutes will live to destroy."

"Thou art, then, a Christian?"

The gleeman crossed himself piously.

"Why not?" said he.

"I heard you sing like a scald tonight."

"It was my part, and I acted it pa.s.sing well, did I not? Sweyn would own as much; but, pardon me, I am forgetting that my daring put you in danger."

"How did you know that?"

"I heard every word; and perhaps I might even have risked more than this to save you."

Meanwhile they had descended nearly a hundred steps, and the atmosphere became singularly cold and charnel-like, when they entered a large vault, which, by the light of their torches, appeared of great extent. Its walls were covered with uncouth representations, and inscriptions in Latin.

"What place is this?"

"It had some connection, I believe, with the old idolatry, and that is all I know. This pa.s.sage will guide us to daylight and liberty."

Following a short and narrow pa.s.sage, they emerged upon a ruined vault, whose roof had fallen in. Climbing out with some difficulty, and disturbing in the process hundreds of bat-mice and not a few rats, they found themselves in the midst of some old ruins at the foot of the acclivity whereon the fortress was built, and below them the brook ran rapidly to join the river.

"Thanks be to G.o.d for our preservation in that den of unclean lions!" said the gleeman; "but had they known who was amongst them, he would have had scant chance of escape."

"May I not know?"

"Not yet. Come, we must waste no more time."

They walked swiftly down the brook. No sentinels were posted in this direction, nor was any lookout kept.

"The danger is yet to come," said the gleeman, in a low tone.

Shortly they reached the river, and then they found a boat hidden in the rushes, which grew tall and strong. They embarked, and Alfgar steered, by the other's direction, straight down the stream, while he rowed for full an hour with remarkable strength and dexterity, so that they drew near the coast, and the cold air from the sea blew in Alfgar's face.

Here the gleeman ceased rowing, and spoke to him in a low tone.

"Do you see those dark figures ahead?"

"I do."

"Well, they are the Danish war ships, and our hour of peril draws near. We must drop down with the tide, which is running out strongly, and I must steer. You can row, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"Well, get the oars ready to pull for your life, if I give the word, but not till then. Now silence."

In perfect silence they drifted down upon the ships. Happily for them there was no moon, and although the stars were bright, there was little danger that their dark-painted bark would be seen at any distance.

One great ma.s.s after another seemed to float by them; but it was the dead hour of the night, and no sounds were heard from the sleeping crews. They kept lax watch, because they had no foe to dread. There was, alas! no English fleet.

One after another, until they had drifted into the centre of the fleet, where discovery must have been instant death. There above them rose the "Great Dragon," in all her hideous beauty, the gilded serpent reposing on the placid waves. Her people, even at that untimely hour, were engaged in revelry, and as they pa.s.sed by the fugitives heard the words:

"Now the warrior's cup of joy was full, When he drank the blood of his foe, Where the slain lay thick on the gory hill, And torrents of blood from every rill reddened the river below, For Odin's hall is the Northman's heaven--"

But they heard no more, for they had drifted beyond hearing.