Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune Part 2

A wild boar caught in the forest formed the chief dish, and was placed at the upper end, while mutton and beef; dressed in various ways, flanked it on either side.

The thane, Ella, occupied the central seat at the high table: his chair, rudely carved, had borne the weight of his ancestors before him; on his left hand was seated the once lovely Edith. Age had deprived her of her youthful beauty, but not of the sweet expression which told of her gentleness and purity of heart; they had left their impress on each line of her speaking countenance; and few left her presence unimpressed with respect and esteem.

On his right hand sat Prince Edwy, "Edwy the fair" men called him, and right well he deserved the name. His face was one which inspired interest at a glance: his large blue eyes, his golden hair which floated over his shoulders, his sweet voice, his graceful bearing, all united to impress the beholders.

Elfric, Alfred, and their sister Edgitha, completed the company at the high table.

The hungry crowd of ceorls and serfs, who were, as we have said, fresh from field or forest, sat at the lower table, which was spread with huge joints of roasted meat, loaves of bread, wedges of cheese, piles of cabbage or other vegetables, rolls or coils of broiled eels, and huge pieces of boiled pork or bacon.

Around the table sat the hounds and other dogs, open jawed, waiting such good luck as they might hope to receive at the hands of their masters, while many "loaf eaters," as the serfs were called who fed at their master's table, stood with the dogs, or sat on the rush-strewn floor, for want of room at the board.

It was marvellous to see how the food disappeared, as hand after hand was stretched out to the dishes, in the absence of forks--a modern invention--and huge horns of ale helped the meat downwards.

Game, steaks of beef and venison on spits, were handed round. The choicer joints were indeed reserved for the upper board, but profusion was the rule everywhere throughout the hall, and there was probably not a serf; nay, not even a dog, whose appet.i.te was not fully satisfied before the end of the feast.

The prince seemed thoroughly to have recovered his spirits, somewhat damped perhaps before by his adventure with the wolf; and exerted his talents to make himself agreeable. He had seen life on an extended scale, young as he was, and his anecdotes of London and the court, if a little wild, were still interesting. Elfric and Alfred listened to his somewhat random talk, with that respect boys ever pay to those who have seen more of the wide world than themselves--a respect perhaps heightened by the high rank of their princely guest, who was, however, only a month or two older than Elfric.

As they heard of the marvels of London, and of the court, home and its attractions seemed to become dim by comparison, and Elfric especially longed to share such happiness.

Their father seemed to wish to change the conversation, as he asked the prince whether he had been long in Mercia.

Edwy replied, "Nay, my host; this is almost my first day of perfect freedom, and I only left London, and my uncle the king, a few days back.

Dunstan has gone down to Glas...o...b..ry, for which the Saints be thanked, and I am released for a few days from poring over the musty old ma.n.u.scripts to which he dooms me."

"It is well, my prince, that you should have a preceptor so well qualified to instruct you in the arts your great ancestor King Alfred so n.o.bly adorned."

"Ah yes, Alfred," said Edwy, yawning; "but you know we can't all be saints or heroes like him: for my part, I sometimes wish he had never lived."

The astonished looks of the company seemed to demand further explanation.

"Because it is always, 'Alfred did this,' and 'Alfred did that.' If I am tired of '_hic, haec, hoc_,' I am told Alfred was never weary; if I complain of a headache, Dunstan says Alfred never complained of pain or illness, but bore all with heroic fort.i.tude, and all the rest of it. If I want a better dinner than my respected uncle gives us on fast days in the palace, I am told Alfred never ate anything beyond a handful of parched corn on such days; if I lose my temper, I am told Alfred never lost his; and so on, till I get sick of his name; and here it greets me in the woods of Mercia."

"I crave pardon, my liege," said Ella, who hardly knew whether to smile or frown at the sarcastic petulance of his guest, who went on with a sly smile--"And now old Dunstan does not know where I am. He left me with a huge pile of books in musty Latin, or crabbed English, and I had to read this and to write that, as if I were no prince, but a scrivener, and had to get my living by my pen; but as soon as he was gone I had a headache, and persuaded my venerable uncle the king, through the physician, that I needed change of air."

"But what will Dunstan say?"

"Oh, he must fight it out with Sigebert the leech, and Sigebert knows which side his bread is b.u.t.tered."

The whole tone of Edwy indicated plainly that the headache was but a pretence, but he spoke with such sly simplicity that the boys could not help joining in his contagious laughter; sympathising, doubtless, in his love of a holiday in the woods.

"Your headache is not gone yet, I trust, my prince," said Elfric.

"Why?" said Edwy, turning his eyes upon him with a smile.

"Because we have splendid woods near here for hunting, and I must have"

(he whispered these words into Edwy's ear) "a headache, too."

Edwy quite understood the request conveyed in these words, and turning to the old thane requested him to allow his boys to join the sport on the morrow as a kind of bodyguard, adding some very complimentary words on the subject of Elfric's courage shown in the rescue that afternoon.

"Why, yes," said the old thane, "I have always tried to bring up the boys so as to fear neither man nor beast, and Elfric did indifferently well in the tussle. So he has earned a holiday for himself and brother, with Father Cuthbert's leave," and Ella turned to the ecclesiastic.

"They are good boys," said the priest, "only, my lord, Elfric is somewhat behind in his studies."

Elfric's looks expressed his contempt of the "studies," but he dared not express the feeling before his father.

"But I trust, my prince," said Ella, "that we shall not keep you from your duties at court. Dunstan is a severe, although a holy man."

"Oh, he is gone to have another encounter with the Evil One at Glas...o...b..ry, and is fashioning a pair of tongs for the purpose," said Edwy, alluding to the legend already current amongst the credulous populace; "and I wish," he muttered, "the Evil One would get the best of it and fly away with him. But" (in a louder tone) "he cannot return for a month, which means a month's holiday for me."

Ella could interpose no further objection, although scarcely satisfied with the programme.

The conversation here became general. It turned upon the subject of hunting and war, and the enthusiasm of young Edwy quite captivated the thane, who seemed to see Edmund, the father of the young prince, before his eyes, as he had known him in his own impetuous youth. Dear, indeed, had that prince been to Ella, both before and after his elevation to the throne, and as he heard the sweet boyish voice of Edwy, his thoughts were guided by memory to that ill-omened feast at Pucklechurch, where the vindictive outlaw Leolf had murdered his king. The sword of Ella had been amongst those which avenged the crime on the murderer, but they could not call back the vital spark which had fled. "Edmund the Magnificent," as they loved to call him, was dead. [v]

So, as Ella listened, he could hardly help condoning the wild speeches of the young prince in deference to the memory of the past.

And now they removed the festive board from the hall, while kneeling serfs offered basin and towel to the thane and his guest to wash their hands. Wine began to circulate freely in goblets of wood inlaid with gold or silver; the clinking of cups, the drinking of healths and pledges opened the revel, cupbearers poured out the wine. The glee-wood (harp) was introduced, while pipes, flutes, and soft horns accompanied its strains. So they sang--

Here Athelstane king, Of earls the lord, To warriors the ring-giver Glory world-long Had won in the strife, By edge of the sword, At Brunanburgh.

And Ella--who had stood by his father's side in that dread field where Danes, Scots, and Welshmen fled before the English sword--listened with enthusiasm, till he thought of his brother Oswald, when tears, un.o.bserved, rolled down his cheeks.

Not so with the boys. They had no secret sorrow to hide, and they listened like those whose young blood boils at the thought of mighty deeds, and longed to imitate them. And when the gleeman finished his lengthy flight of music and poesy, they applauded him till the roof rang again.

Song followed song, legend legend, the revelry grew louder, while the lady Edith, with her daughter, retired to their bower, where they employed their needles on delicate embroidery. A representation in bright colours of the consecration of the church of St. Wilfred occupied the hands of the little Edgitha, while her mother wove sacred pictures to serve as hangings for the sanctuary of the priory church.

But soon the tolling of the bell announced that it was the compline hour, nine o'clock, and that hour was never allowed to pa.s.s un.o.bserved at Aescendune, but formed the termination of the labour or the feast, after which it was customary for the whole household to retire, as well they might who rose with the early dawn.

Neither was it pa.s.sed by on this occasion, although the boys looked very disappointed, for they would fain have listened to song or legend till midnight, if not later.

"Come, my children," said the thane; "we must rise early, so let us all commit ourselves to the keeping of G.o.d and His holy angels, and seek our pillows."

So the whole party repaired to the chapel, where the chaplain said the compline office or night song, after which Ella saluted his royal guest with reverent affection, and bestowed his paternal benediction upon his children. Then the whole party separated for the night.

The household was speedily buried in sleep, save the solitary sentinel who paced around the building. Not that danger was apprehended from any source, but precaution had become habitual in those days of turmoil.

Occasionally the howl of the wolf was heard from the woods, and the sleepers half awoke, then dreamt of the chase as the night flew by.

CHAPTER III. LEAVING HOME.

The sun arose in a bright and cloudless sky on the following morning, and his first beams aroused every sleeper in the hall of Aescendune from his couch of straw, for softer material was seldom or never used for repose. Even the chamber in which the prince slept could not be called luxurious: the bed was in a box-like recess; its coverlets, worked richly by the fair hands of the ladies, who had little other occupation, covered a mattress which even modern schoolboys would call rough and uncomfortable.

The wind played with the tapestry which represented the history of Joseph and his brethren, as it found its way in through crevices in the ill-built walls. There were two or three stools over which the thane's care for his guest had caused coverlets to be thrown; a round table of rough construction stood like a tripod on three legs, upon which stood the unwonted luxury of ewer and basin, for most people had to perform their ablutions at the nearest convenient well or spring.

Leaving this chamber in good time, Prince Edwy acompanied his new friends to the priory church, where they heard ma.s.s before the sun was high in the heavens, after which they returned to the hall to take a light breakfast before they sought the attractions of the chase in the forest. Full of life they mounted their horses, and galloped in the wild exuberance of animal spirits with their dogs through the leafy arches of the forest, startling the red deer, the wolf, or the wild boar. Soon they roused a mighty individual of the latter tribe, who turned to bay, when the boys dismounted and finished the affair with their boar spears, not without some personal danger, and the loss of a couple of dogs.

Onward again they swept, past leafy glades of beech trees, where the swineherd drove his half-tame charges, or where the woodcutters plied their toil, and loaded their rude carts or hand barrows with fuel for the kitchen of the hall; past rookeries, where the birds made the air lively by their noise; over brook, through the half-dry marsh, until they came upon an old wolf; whom they followed and slew for want of better game, not without a desperate struggle, in which Elfric, ever the foremost, got a much worse scratch than on the preceding day.

But how enjoyable the sport was, how sweet to breathe the bright pure air of that May day; how grand to outstrip the wind over the yielding turf, and at last to carry home the trophies of their prowess; the scalp of the wolf, the tusks of the boar, leaving the serfs to bring in the succulent flesh of the latter, while the hawks and crows fed upon the former.