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) 📕

wanted a man to fight or do anything else well, you must feed him well first. So the care of the body was never neglected, however pressing the danger.

Accordingly, Edwy called Elfric to sit by his side at the substantial meal which commenced the day, and saw, with much pleasure, that the cloud had partly passed from his friend’s brow for the hope of immediate action, of the excitement of battle, had done much to drive lowness and depression from the young warrior. So he strove to chat and laugh with the loudest, and when the moment came to marshal the host, and to put them in array, his spirits were as high as in old times.

The cavalry, which was their strongest arm, was under the command of Edwy himself, although a sturdy warrior, who had fought in many a battle, rode on his right hand to supply his lack of experience.

The main body of the infantry was under the command of Earl Cynewulf, while the reserve was under the command of Redwald’s immediate subordinate, and consisted almost exclusively of the household guard.

The plan of attack, for it was quite decided that they should take the initiative, was simple, and in accordance with the ordinary tactics of the times. The heavy-armed foot were bidden first to advance upon the entrenchments which crowned the opposite hill, and to break the infantry of the enemy, which was drawn up before them in formidable array; this done, the horse were immediately to avail themselves of the opening thus made, and the entrenchments to be assaulted by both cavalry and infantry.

Armed with huge axes, clad in mail, and bearing large shields, the foot advanced to the attack. They were a gallant company; and as the sun shone upon their glittering armour, or was reflected back from the bright steel of their axes, they might well inspire faint hearts with terror; but faint hearts were not amongst those opposed to them. The chosen men of the northwest, some of half-British blood, crowned the opposite hill, drawn up in front of their entrenchments, as if they scorned any other defence than that supplied by their living valour. They had borrowed their tactics from the Danes: deep and strong on all sides, they seemed to oppose an impenetrable wall to the foe; they had their shields to oppose to darts or arrows, their axes for the footmen, their spears to form a hedge of steel no horse could surmount.

Even should they yield to the pressure, still all would not be lost; their retreat was secured into the entrenchments, and there they might well hope to detain the enemy until the whole population should rise against the men of Wessex and their leader, and his cause become hopeless.

Steadily up the hill came the brave troops of Edwy, and from within their ranks, as they ascended the slope, a shower of arrows was discharged by the archers who accompanied them, under their protection; but no return was yet made by the foe, until they were close at hand, when a loud war cry burst from the hostile ranks, and a perfect shower of darts and arrows rained upon the invaders.

Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line on the bloody grass behind them—persevered, like men longing for the close hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadly grip. The shock arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping the harvest of death. So great was the physical strength of the combatants that arms and legs were mown off by a stroke, and men were cloven in two, from the crown downwards, by the sweeping blows of the deadly steel.

It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was unshaken in its strength; in vain Edwy’s archers behind shot their arrows so as to curve over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst the foe; the men of Wessex recoiled and gave way.

Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of the foe, although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered his cavalry to charge. The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance; down on their knees went the first line, their spears resting on the ground; behind them the second bent over to strike with their axes; while a third rank, the archers, drew their bows, and prepared to welcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of deadly arrows.

Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with a sound like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at their head, clad in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of fear was gone now in the mad excitement of the charge; before them they saw the wail of spear points; nearer and nearer their coursers bounded, until they seemed to fly. Every rider leant forward, that his sword might smite as far as possible; and, daring the points, trusting perhaps to the breastplates of their horses and their own ready blades, they rushed madly upon the foe.

In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against such an obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of Edwy seemed capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became almost a pure calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, for none were cowards on either side, but of mere physical laws of force and resistance.

Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance point, about to impale him, he diverted it by his sword blade, as he was hurried into the midst of axes, swords, lances, and beheld the warrior opposite to him in the second rank raise his axe to inflict a fearful blow, which would have severed his horse’s neck, had not an arrow transfixed the foe.

The wedge seemed partly broken, and the king had begun to exult in the anticipation of speedy victory, when from behind each end of the entrenchment rushed two bodies of hostile cavalry; they fell upon Edwy’s forces in the rear, and in a few moments all was confusion.

The warriors of Edgar rallied, drove the horse out of their lines, advanced slowly, and the horsemen of the rival brothers, mingled together in deadly strife, in personal combat, where each man seemed to have sought and found his individual foe.

They moved slowly down the bill towards the brook, man after man falling and dotting the green sward of the hill with struggling, writhing bodies.

Meanwhile, Cynewulf was attempting to rally the flying foot, which had been cut almost in two by the charge of the Mercian cavalry: he succeeded, with great difficulty, in doing so at the brook which ran along the bottom of the valley, and, with the stream in their front, they prepared to afford a refuge to their own, and to resist the hostile horse.

Edwy saw the opportunity, and, raising himself in his stirrups, called upon his friends to follow him: he leapt the brook, and galloped round behind the foot, where nearly all the unwounded horsemen followed him. He had fought well, had slain more than one foe with his own royal hand, as became a descendant of Cerdic, and now he but retired to organise another and stouter resistance to the daring foe.

But he was forced to admit now that Cynewulf was right in his conjecture, and that they were utterly outnumbered, for the foe poured forth from their entrenchment and advanced in good order down the slope; while the Mercian cavalry, forming in two detachments to the left and right, crossed the brook and charged along its banks upon the flanks of the Wessex infantry, at the same moment.

The warrior upon whose advice Edwy had been told to depend had fallen: he was left to his own resources. Alas! he forgot he was a commander, and, waving his plumed cap as a signal for his brother knights to follow, charged upon the horsemen who were advancing up stream at like speed, forgetting that a similar body was advancing in the opposite direction, and that as all his force were following his lead, the opposite flank of the foot was unprotected.

In a single minute they were all engaged in the fiercest melee which imagination can well paint, fighting as furiously as men of the same blood only seem to fight when once the claims of kindred are cast aside. Swords ascended and descended with deadly violence; horses raised themselves up on their hind legs, and, catching the deadly enthusiasm, seemed to engage their fellows; riders fell, sternly repressing the groan which pain would extort, while their steeds, less self controlled, uttered, when wounded, those ear-piercing cries only heard from the animals in deadly terror or pain.

In the midst of this tumult Elfric engaged a Mercian of superior size and strength; it was his second personal encounter; in his first, he had seen his adversary fall with a warrior’s stern joy, but now he was overmatched; borne down by an arm twice as strong as his own, his guard was broken down, and a deadly blow laid open his shoulder, cutting the veins in the neck of his horse at the same fell sweep. The animal, blinded with blood, staggered, fell, and he was down amongst the horses’ feet, confined by one leg, for his horse rolled partly upon him in its dying struggles; while he felt the hoofs of other chargers in close proximity to his heed.

A loud cry, “They fly! They fly! Victory! Victory!” reached him even then. He well knew from which party the cries must proceed, and that he was left to the mercy of the victorious Mercians.

It was even so; the charge of the hostile cavalry on the left flank had broken down the ranks of the infantry on that side; the hostile foot had contrived to cross the brook in the confusion, and all was lost.

The reserve now came rapidly forward, but, seeing at a glance the state of things, retired to defend the entrenched camp, so as to give the king and his broken and routed followers time to escape, while they made good the defence with their lives. So they retired at once into the camp, whither Edwy and his few surviving companions galloped a moment after them.

Edwy was unhurt; he dismounted: his fair face flushed to a fiery red with heat and excitement, he leapt on the entrenchment and looked on the plain. He saw those of his own followers who had not yet made good their escape, ridden down, cut to pieces, slaughtered in the excitement of the moment without mercy; the sight stung him, be would have sallied out to their defence, but Cynewulf, who was yet living, met him in the gateway, and sternly seized the bridle of his steed.

“My lord and king,” he said; “your life is precious to Wessex, you may not throw it away.”

“I cannot see my followers slaughtered: loose my bridle, I command you;” and he raised his sword impetuously.

“You may cut me down, and so reward my faithful service; but, living, you shall not pass me on your road to destruction. My lord, I am old enough to be your father.”

But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than Cynewulf the key to Edwy’s heart. He was one of the boon companions we have been before introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, gallantly all that day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him reel and fall from his horse.

“Elfgar!” he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject from the ground—“not seriously wounded I hope!”

“Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, my dear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you —if you—” the words came broken and faint “—are slain, she will be at the mercy of her deadly foes.”

His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king could make any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope.

But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy.

“Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for thee.”

“Return then to her, my lord,” said Cynewulf. “See, they are preparing now to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are not here, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you but embarrass us: ride out, my liege.”

“And desert my subjects?”

“They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surround the camp, for your fair queen’s sake, or you are lost.”

“Come, my men, we must fly,” said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the way reluctantly to the back of the camp.

The road was