Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune<br />A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan by A. D. Crake (best e reader for epub TXT) 📕
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- Author: A. D. Crake
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It boots not to repeat an oft-told tale, to describe the banquet in all its prodigal luxury, to tell how light the casks in the cellars of Æscendune seemed afterwards, how empty the larder; suffice it to say that in due course the banquet was ended, the toasts were drunk, and, with an occasional interlude in the gleeman’s song and the harper’s wild music, the conversation was at its height. Wine and wassail unloosed men’s tongues.
Redwald sat near the king, who had introduced him to Ella as a dear friend both to him and his son—“a very Mentor,” he said, “who, since the unhappy quarrel into which my counsellors forced me —yes, forced me—with Dunstan, has done more to keep Elfric and me straight in our morals than at one time I should have thought possible for any man to do.
“Redwald, you need not blush; it is true, and your king is proud to own it.”
Redwald was not exactly blushing; he had spent the interval before the banquet in looking eagerly and wistfully all round the house, and now his countenance had a cold composure, which made it seem as if he had never known emotion; still he answered fittingly to the king’s humour:
“Alack, my lord, such credit is due only to the blessed saints, especially St. Wilfred, whom you first learned to love at Æscendune, as you have often told me.”
“Yes,” said Edwy; “you remember, Ella, how I used to steal away even from the chase, and visit his chapel at the priory which your worthy father founded. Truly, I mused upon the saint so much that I marvel he appeared not to me; I think he did once.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed his auditors.
“Yes; I had been musing upon my condition as a poor orphan boy, deprived of my brave father—he was your friend, Ella!—when methought a figure in the dress of a very ancient bishop, stood beside me, yet immaterial as the breeze of evening. ‘Thy prayer is heard’ said he to me; ‘thou hast brought many gifts to St. Wilfred; he shall send thee one, even a friend.’ It was fulfilled in Elfric.”
“Truly, it was marvellous,” said Father Cuthbert, who listened with open mouth. “I doubt not it was our sainted patron.”
Alfred said nothing; his recollections of Edwy’s days at Æscendune did not embrace many hours in the chapel of St. Wilfred.
The great wonderment of Ella may be conceived: he had always mourned over Edwy as a headstrong youth, dead to religion, and now he was called upon to contemplate him in so different a light. The reader may wonder at his credulity, but if he had listened to the sweet voice of the beautiful king, had gazed into that innocent-looking face—those eyes which always seemed to meet the gaze, and never lowered themselves or betrayed their owner—he would, perhaps, have been deceived too; yet Edwy was overdoing it, and a look from Redwald warned him of the fact. He took the other line.
“Alas!” he said, “I have been very very unworthy of St. Wilfred’s fond interest in me, and may have done very rash things; but some day the saint may rejoice in me again, and then he shall not find in me a rebellious son.”
Further than this he was not disposed to go, for in truth he felt himself sickened by his very success in deceit, although half disposed to be proud of it at the same time. But Redwald had taken up the conversation.
“These halls of yours seem old, venerable thane; has your family long dwelt under this hospitable roof?”
“My remote ancestor fought by the side of Cynric in the victories which led to the foundation of Mercia.”
“Ah! many a sad yet glorious tale and legend for the gleeman’s harp, doubtless, adorns your annals.”
“Not many; we have our traditions.”
“For instance, is there one connected with the foundation of the priory hard by?”
“It is of recent date, my father built it.”
“Strange, for generally these old places are reared up by repentant sinners, mourning over the sins they have committed, or the day of grace they have cast away; is there no tale attached to your foundation?”
“Alas! there is; but it is one whose stain is all too recent, one we cannot recount, or suffer gleeman’s harp to set to music, lest we harrow the yet bleeding wound.”
Redwald could not ask more; the answer was too plain and distinct, and so he was forced to repress his curiosity.
The conversation then became desultory and, finally, when the gleemen began the well known piece de resistance, the battle of Brunanburgh, Edwy yawned and Redwald looked sleepy, while the old thane actually slept in his huge armchair, and was awakened only by the cessation of the music and singing.
Even in the presence of royalty itself Ella did not suffer the company to disperse before the chaplain had said the customary compline service, after which the guard was doubled at the door, and soon the whole household was buried in sweet and peaceful sleep.
Yet, although they knew it not, they nourished the deadliest foe of their race in the bosom of the family. There was one at least who could not sleep that night who now paced his narrow chamber, now looked forth at the meadows, woods, and hills, sleeping in the summer twilight; now, unchecked, burst into the wildest excitement, and paced his chamber as a wild beast might pace the floor of his cage; now calmed down into a sarcastic smile.
“Yes!” he said in soliloquy, “and here I am at last; here in the halls which should have been his and mine, and shall be mine yet; here! and they know it not; here! and the reward of years of patient endurance is at hand; here! yes, here, in the halls of Æscendune—dreamed of, sighed after, prayed for at the shrine of such gods as promise vengeance; here, by Woden and Thor; here by Satan’s help, if there be a Satan!—here! here! here!”
NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL.
Early in the morning the whole household was astir, and the breakfast alone preceded the preparations for the departure of Edwy and his retinue. Redwald did not appear, and they became uneasy at his prolonged absence, until, sending to his room, they found him suffering from sudden, but severe illness; which, as the leech shortly decided, would absolutely prevent his travelling that day.
It was evident that Edwy was annoyed by this, but it was not until after a long conference with Redwald that he took Ella aside, and pointing out to him the exposed position of the hall, besought his permission to leave a garrison of fifty men under the command of this trusty officer, which would ensure their safety, in case of any sudden attack on the part of Edgar’s troops.
“I can hardly feel that I need such protection, my royal master,” replied Ella; “I dwell among my own people, and am perhaps safer when quite unprotected.”
“In that case, may I press my own poor claims?” replied the king. “In case of the worst, I should have Æscendune to fall back upon, a retreat secured by chosen men behind me, where one might halt and turn to bay; again, Redwald’s sudden illness necessitates my leaving him to your hospitality.”
Thus pressed on every side, Ella felt he could but yield to a request which the speaker had not only the power but the right, as his feudal superior, to enforce; for Ella was not prepared to throw off his allegiance, as most of his neighbours had done, and to make common cause with Edgar. Again, the conversation of the previous night had given him more confidence in Edwy, and more hope of seeing Elfric again, like the returning prodigal, than he had previously had.
Edwy saw this, and continued:
“And it is but a few days hence, ere I propose to return with Elfric—whom I could indeed put in command of such forces as are necessary to secure you against our mutual foes, when I return southward. Redwald and his troops will hold the place in trust for Elfric, till he arrives.”
The last lingering feeling of reluctance was now forcibly banished, and Ella consented to receive Redwald as his guest, with a picked troop of fifty men.
“They shall be the best behaved warriors you have ever seen, my own hus-carles—men who go to mass every morning, and shrift every week,” added the deceitful prince; “at least,” he added, as he saw the look of incredulity Ella could not suppress, “some of them do, I can’t say how many.”
In the course of an hour from this conversation, the royal party took its departure, reduced to half its numbers.
Edwy left amidst the regret of all, so amiable had been his manners, so winning his ways.
“I take a son’s liberty,” said he, as he saluted the venerable cheek of the lady Edith; “but I will bring your other son back with me in a few days.”
The road leading over the hill and through the forest had swallowed up the retreating force, when Ella personally superintended the distribution of quarters to the guard of Redwald, many of whom afterwards volunteered to follow him to the harvest field, and displayed uncommon alacrity in carrying the wheat safely to its granaries, saying the rebels should never have the reaping thereof.
There was, however, a kind of gloom over the whole party through that day. The thought that deadly strife impended close at hand weighed upon the spirits of Ella, but they brightened again at the renewed hope of meeting his prodigal, and he now hoped repentant, son in peace.
Meanwhile, very different scenes were on the point of being enacted only twice ten miles from the spot.
The main body of the army left its quarters on the right bank of the Avon, at the same hour in which Edwy left Æscendune to join them on their march and they proceeded in safety all through the morning. At midday they lay down to feed and to rest, and while thus resigning themselves to repose, with the guards posted carefully around, the sound of cavalry was heard in the distance, and shortly the royal party appeared. Elfric was alert to receive them, but could not conceal his surprise when he saw their diminished numbers, and perceived the absence of Redwald.
Edwy saw his look of embarrassment, and hastened to reply to the question it conveyed.
“They are left at Æscendune, fifty under the command of Redwald, to fortify the house until we return. You must go home this time, and you need not fear, for I have been a very saint at Æscendune, and they are expecting Dunstan will speedily return and canonise me. Elfric, I have used my sanctity for your advantage, since I have represented you as sharing it at least in some degree.”
“I fear me, my father is too wise to be so easily deceived.”
“Nothing of the kind; he really seemed to believe in it; at all events, I have promised you shall return with me.”
“Did they really seem to wish to see me?”
“They did really, especially your brother Alfred.”
Elfric started as if an arrow had struck him.
“Alfred. Alfred!” he said.
“Yes, why not Alfred?”
“And you saw him alive and well?”
“To be sure, why not? Did you think he was dead.”
Elfric became confused, and muttered some incoherent answer, but he rejoiced in his very heart; he felt as if a mountain were removed from him, and a sweet longing for home, such as he had not felt since a certain Good Friday, sprang up in his mind, so strongly that he would have gone then and there, had circumstances permitted.
Alas, poor boy! his wish was not thus easily to be gratified: he had sinned very deeply—his penance had yet to be accomplished; well has the poet written:
“Facilis descensus Averno . . . . Sed retrograre gradum, superasque evadere ad auras, Hoc opus—hic labor est.” xxvii
The midday halt concluded, the troops resumed their march for Alcester, where they hoped to arrive about nightfall, and to surprise Edgar and his few followers. All that afternoon they proceeded through a dense woodland country; and the evening was setting in upon them, when suddenly the scouts in front came galloping back, and gave the startling information that entrenchments were thrown up across their path, and that a large force was evidently entrenched behind.
At first Edwy could scarcely believe the report; but Cynewulf, the experienced commander upon whom, as we have said, the real command of the
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