Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune Part 33

Edmund delayed his journey into Wess.e.x until he had duly provided for the defence of the capital, and had personally examined all the defences with a warrior's eye. At length the messengers who watched the Danish fleet announced its arrival at Greenwich, and that bands of warriors, numerous as locusts, were issuing thence, and advancing upon London.

Reluctant as Edmund was to leave the city, it was evident that if he delayed another day he might indeed share the perils of the inhabitants, but would probably lose Wess.e.x, where his immediate presence was all-important. Therefore he called Alfgar, and bade him prepare at once for a journey to the west.

Their intended route led them, in the first instance, to Dorchester, where a large force from Mercia, including most of the men whom Edmund had so long disciplined himself, and who were under the temporary charge of Hermann, were to meet him. However, it was late before their final arrangements could be made, and the sun had already set when the citizens accompanied them to the Ludgate, and bade them an earnest farewell.

They were both clad in light defensive armour, such as could be worn on a rapid journey, and armed with sword and battle-axe. Their own steeds, two of the finest horses England could produce, famous for speed and bottom, awaited them at the gate. Edmund criticised their condition with a jealous eye, and then expressed approval.

"Farewell, Englishmen of the loyal and true city! Until we meet in happier times, farewell! You will know how to guard hearths and homes. Till we return to aid you, farewell!"

And, striking spurs into his steed, he and Alfgar rode across the Fleet river, and, ascending the rising ground, pursued their course along the Strand.

"We shall have a moonlight ride," said the king. "Look, Alfgar, 'tis nearly full."

"My Lord, do you see those dark spots on the river near Thorney Isle?"

"Ah! I see them, and recognise the cutthroats. They are the Danes, who are bent on surrounding the city. Had I my five hundred, I would soon give some account of that detachment."

"But now, my Lord, had we not better strike into the northern road at once, before they see us? We are but two."

"No; I should like to see them a little closer, and then across the heath for Windsor. They must have fleet steeds that catch us."

So they persevered until they had attained a rising ground from which they perceived the whole force, nearly a thousand strong, of whom one half had crossed the stream. But the figures of our two adventurers, outlined on the hill, were too distinct to elude their observation, and a dozen dark hors.e.m.e.n rode after them at full gallop.

"Now for a brisk ride," said Edmund; and the two dashed wildly onward, clearing ditch or hedge until they attained the rising ground afterwards known as Hounslow Heath, still followed by their pursuers.

Here Edmund paused and looked round. The speed at which they rode had separated their pursuers, as he had expected, and one was far the foremost.

"Stand by, Alfgar," he said; "two to one is not fair. I thirst for the blood of this accursed Dane."

Alfgar knew that he must not dispute the royal will, although he thought the risk of delay very perilous, with a crowd of foes upon their track. While he waited up came the Dane, powerfully mounted, swinging his heavy battle-axe. He swooped upon Edmund, who caused his horse to start aside, avoided the stroke, and then, guiding his horse by his knees, and raising his axe in both hands, cleft his antagonist to the chin before he could recover.

"Here come two more. Now, Alfgar, there is one apiece. The rest are a mile behind them. You may take the one on the light grey, I will take the rascal on the dark steed."

Another moment and they were both engaged. Alfgar foiled his opponent's first stroke, and wounded him slightly in return. Now the battle became desperate, attack succeeding attack, and parry, parry. Meanwhile Edmund had again laid his foe prostrate in the dust, but did not interfere; such was his chivalrous spirit in what he considered an equal combat, although he cast anxious looks behind, where two or three other riders were rapidly approaching.

At last victory inclined to Alfgar's side. Parrying a tremendous stroke with his axe, he returned it with such vigour that the next moment the Dane lay quivering in the dust.

"There appear to be only three or four more. I think we might engage them. By the by, Alfgar, you missed one splendid chance through your steed not answering your guidance to the moment. But I am tired of the battle-axe, and shall use my sword for a change.

"Ah! there come half-a-dozen more round those firs. We must ride forward and give up the sport."

Their enemies saw them and quickened their pace. They came to the spot where their countrymen lay prostrate, and the cry of revenge they raised, and the manner in which they urged their steeds forward, showed how strongly the sight appealed to their feelings.

Onward flew pursuers and pursued--onward till Windsor's height, with its castled hall, appeared in sight, and tempted them to seek refreshment for man and beast. But they dared not linger on their journey, and pa.s.sed the town without entering.

They rode all night through a most desolate country, wasted by fire and sword in all directions. Only in a few spots was there any appearance of cultivation, for who would sow when they knew not who should reap? Not one lonely country house, such as abounded in the days of Edgar the Pacific, did they see standing, although they pa.s.sed the blackened ruins of many an abode, showing where once the joys of home held sway. Here and there they came upon the relics of strife, in the shape of bodies of men and horses left to rot, and in one spot, where a ford had been defended, the rival nations had left their fallen representatives by hundreds. It must have been months before, yet no one had buried the bodies. Such people as still existed without the fortified towns had betaken themselves to the woods, or the recesses of the deep swamps and forests, as the people of Aescendune had done.

As they drew near Dorchester, they found yet more sanguinary traces of recent war, for the Thames had been the scene of constant warfare. Bensington, half burned, had partially recovered, and had renewed her fortifications; Wallingford, hard by, had never risen since the frightful Christmas of 1006.

Dorchester now rose before them. They had accomplished fifty miles of hard riding that night. They were seen, challenged, and recognised, by a patrol without the gates, and the cry, "Long live King Edmund!" echoed from all sides. A thousand gallant Mercians, the nucleus of an army, each man fit to be a captain, awaited them there, and Edmund felt his spirits revive within him, and his hope for England; and Alfgar met Hermann with great gladness.

It was pitiful to see the blackened ruins of churches and palace, which had not been rebuilt since the Danish raid of 1010, but the commoner dwellings were rising with rapidity from their ashes, or had already risen, for the shelter of the earthworks and other fortifications was not to be despised, and prevented the place from being utterly abandoned.

Yet it may be noted that Dorchester never fully recovered the events of that dreadful year, and that its decay probably dates from the period.

Resting only a few hours, during which they were the guests of Ednoth, the bishop, they departed with his fervent blessing and earnest prayers for their success, and rode westward, attended by their whole troop.

Every town they reached received them with enthusiasm. They were now near the birthplace of the great Alfred, where the hearts of the people were all thoroughly with their native princes; and men left all their ordinary occupations to strike one blow for King Edmund and England. Onward, and like a rolling s...o...b..ll, they gathered as they went, until they entered Wiltshire with ten thousand men, and, crossing the country, reached the opposite border with all the brave men of Wilts added to their numbers.

They were now approaching Dorsetshire, and saw before them a rising ground, with a large stone set in a conspicuous position.

"What stone is that?" inquired Edmund of a thane, whose habitation was hard by, and who had joined him with his whole household.

"It is called the county stone. It marks the place where three counties meet--Somerset, Wilts, and Dorset; it is in the village of Penn."

At this moment a horseman was seen riding wildly after them from the country in the rear.

"See that man; he brings news," said Edmund, and the whole party paused.

"Alfgar," whispered Edmund to his confidential attendant, "there is hot work coming; I have long since scented the foe behind."

The messenger arrived, bowed low to the king, and waited permission to speak, while his panting breath betrayed his haste and his excitement.

"Well, your message?" said Edmund; "you have ridden fast to bring it."

"My lord, Canute, with an army of fifty thousand men, is following behind with all his speed."

Edmund looked proudly around upon his host; it was almost equal in number. Then he looked with a soldier's eye on the ground before him, and saw that it was the very place where a stand could be made with every advantage of ground.

"It is well," said Edmund; "we will wait for him here."

A loud cheer from those around him showed how he had succeeded in imparting his own brave spirit to others. The trumpets commanded a halt; and Alfgar and other riders bore the commands of the king to the extremities of the host.

Each division took up rapidly the position a.s.signed; for in this domestic war men fought side by side with those they had known from childhood, and were commanded immediately by their own hereditary chieftains.

The broken nature of the ground protected them well from an attack on either flank, and they strengthened this advantage by throwing up a mound and digging a ditch, with the greatest rapidity.

While thus engaged, they saw the flashing of spear and shield in the east, reflecting the setting sun, and speedily the whole country seemed to glow with the sheen of weapons.

Edmund raised himself in the stirrups.

"Englishmen! brethren!" he cried, "you see your foe, the ruthless destroyers of your land and kinsfolk; the pagan murderers of your archbishop, the sainted Alphege. G.o.d will help them that help themselves. It shall be ours to strike one glorious blow for liberty and for just vengeance on this field. I vow to the G.o.d of battles I will conquer or die."

He took off his helmet and looked solemnly to Heaven, as he called on the Supreme Being to register his vow, and a deep murmur of sympathy arose around, until it found loud utterance in the cry, "We will conquer with our king or die," from a thousand voices, until the glorious enthusiasm spread throughout the camp. Glorious when men fight for hearth and altar.

Edmund looked proudly around.

"With such warriors," he said, "I need not fear Canute."