The Dragon And The Raven: Or The Days Of King Alfred(Fiscle Part-3) by G. A. Henty (e book reading free TXT) 📕

Conflict,  Dashed Down Upon The Disordered Saxons,  While

The Flying Infantry Turning Round Also Fell Upon Them With

Exulting Shouts.

Taken Wholly By Surprise,  Confused And Disordered,  The

Saxons Could Offer No Effectual Opposition To The Charge. The

Danish Horse Rode Among Them Hewing And Slaying,  And The

Swords And Battle-Axes Of The Footmen Completed The Work.

In A Few Minutes Of All The Saxon Band Which Had For So

Many Hours Successfully Resisted The Onslaught Of The Danes,

Not One Survived Save A Few Fleet-Footed Young Men Who,

Throwing Away Their Arms,  Succeeded In Making Their Escape,

And A Little Group,  Consisting Of Algar,  Toley,  Eldred,  And The

Other Leaders Who Had Gathered Together When Their Men

Broke Their Ranks And Had Taken Up Their Position On A Knoll

Of Ground Rising Above The Plain. Here For A Long Time They

Resisted The Efforts Of The Whole Of The Danes,  Surrounding

Themselves With A Heap Of Slain; But At Length One By One They

Succumbed To The Danish Onslaught,  Each Fighting Valiantly

To The Last.

From His Position At A Distance Edmund Watched The

Last Desperate Struggle. With Streaming Eyes And A Heart Torn

By Anxiety For His Father He Could See The Danish Foe Swarming

Round The Little Band Who Defended The Crest. These

Were Lost From His Sight,  And Only The Flashing Of Swords

Showed Where The Struggle Was Still Going On In The Centre Of

The Confused Mass. Edmund Had Been On His Knees For Some

Time,  But He Now Rose.

"Come,  Old Boy," He Said To The Hound,  Who Lay Beside

Him Watching The Distant Conflict And Occasionally Uttering

Deep Angry Growls. "I Must Obey My Father's Last Command;

Let Us Away."

He Took One More Glance At The Distant Conflict Before

Turning. It Was Plain That It Was Nearly Finished. The Swords

Had Well-Nigh Ceased To Rise And Fall When He Saw A Sudden

Movement In The Throng Of Danes And Suddenly A Man Burst

Out From Them And Started At Headlong Speed Towards Him,

Pursued By A Number Of Danes. Even At That Distance Edmund

Thought That He Recognized The Tall Figure Of His Kinsman,

But He Had No Time To Assure Himself Of This,  And He At Once,

Accompanied By The Hound,  Set Off At The Top Of His Speed

From The Field Of Battle. He Had Fully A Quarter Of A Mile

Start,  And Being Active And Hardy And Accustomed To Exercise

From His Childhood,  He Had No Fear That The Danes Would

Overtake Him. Still He Ran His Hardest.

Looking Over His Shoulder From Time To Time He Saw That

At First The Danes Who Were Pursuing The Fugitive Were Gaining

Upon Him Also,  But After A Time He Again Increased The

Distance,  While,  Being Unencumbered With Shield Or Heavy

Weapons,  The Fugitive Kept The Advantage He Had At First Gained.

Three Miles From The Battle-Field Edmund Reached The Edge

Of A Wide-Spreading Wood. Looking Round As He Entered Its

Shelter He Saw That The Flying Saxon Was Still About A Quarter

Of A Mile Behind Him,  And That The Danes,  Despairing Of

Over-Taking Him,  Had Ceased Their Pursuit. Edmund Therefore

Checked His Footsteps And Awaited The Arrival Of The Fugitive,

Who He Now Felt Certain Was His Kinsman.

In A Few Minutes Egbert Came Up,  Having Slackened His

Speed Considerably When He Saw That He Was No Longer Pursued.

He Was Bleeding From Several Wounds,  And Now That

The Necessity For Exertion Had Passed He Walked But Feebly

Along. Without A Word He Flung Himself On The Ground By

Edmund And Buried His Face In His Arms,  And The Lad Could

See By The Shaking Of His Broad Shoulders That He Was Weeping

Bitterly. The Great Hound Walked Up To The Prostrate Figure

And Gave Vent To A Long And Piteous Howl,  And Then Lying

Down By Egbert's Side Placed His Head On His Shoulder.

Edmund Wept Sorely For Some Time,  For He Knew That

His Kinsman's Agitation Could Be Only Caused By The

Death Of His Father. At Last He Approached Egbert.

"My Brave Kinsman," He Said,  "I Need Ask You No Questions,

For I Know But Too Well That My Dear Father Has Fallen;

But Rouse Yourself,  I Pray You; Let Me Bandage Your Wounds,

Which Bleed Fast,  For You Will Want All Your Strength,  And We

Must Needs Pursue Our Way Well Into The Forest,  For With

To-Morrow's Dawn The Danes Will Scatter Over The Whole Country."

"Yes," Egbert Said,  Turning Round And Sitting Up,  "I Must

Not In My Grief Forget My Mission,  And In Truth I Am Faint

With Loss Of Blood. It Was Well The Danes Stopped When They

Did,  For I Felt My Strength Failing Me,  And Could Have Held Out

But Little Further. Yes,  Edmund," He Continued,  As The Lad,

Tearing Strips From His Garments,  Proceeded To Bandage His

Wounds,  "Your Father Is Dead. Nobly,  Indeed,  Did He Fight;

Nobly Did He Die,  With A Circle Of Dead Danes Around Him.

He,  Algar,  Toley,  And Myself Were The Last Four To Resist. Back

To Back We Stood,  And Many Were The Danes Who Fell Before

Our Blows. Toley Fell First And Then Algar. The Danes Closed

Closer Around Us. Still We Fought On,  Till Your Father Was Beaten

To His Knee,  And Then He Cried To Me,  'Fly,  Egbert,  To My Son.'

Then I Flung Myself Upon The Danes Like A Wild Boar Upon

The Dogs,  And With The Suddenness Of My Rush And The Heavy

Blows Of My Battle-Axe Cut A Way For Myself Through Them.

It Was Well-Nigh A Miracle,  And I Could Scarce Believe It When

I Was Free. I Flung Away My Shield And Helmet As Soon As I Had

Well Begun To Run,  For I Felt The Blood Gushing Out From A

Dozen Wounds,  And Knew That I Should Want All My Strength.

I Soon Caught Sight Of You Running Ahead Of Me. Had I Found

We Were Gaining Upon You I Should Have Turned Off And Made

Another Way To Lead The Danes Aside,  But I Soon Saw That You

Were Holding Your Own,  And So Followed Straight On. My Knees

Trembled,  And I Felt My Strength Was Well-Nigh Gone,  When,

Looking Round,  I Found The Danes Had Desisted From Their

Pursuit. I Grieve,  Edmund,  That I Should Have Left The Battle

Alive When All The Others Have Died Bravely,  For,  Save A Few

Fleet-Footed Youths,  I Believe That Not A Single Saxon Has

Escaped The Fight; But Your Father Had Laid His Commands Upon

Me,  And I Was Forced To Obey,  Though God Knows I Would

Rather Have Died With The Heroes On That Field."

"'Tis Well For Me That You Did Not,  My Good Egbert,"

Edmund Said,  Drying His Eyes,  "For What Should I Have Done

In This Troubled Land Without One Protector?"

"It Was The Thought Of That," Egbert Said,  "That Seemed

To Give Me Strength As I Dashed At The Danes. And Now,

Methinks,  I Am Strong Enough To Walk Again. Let Us Make

Our Way Far Into The Forest,  Then We Must Rest For The Night.

A Few Hours' Sleep Will Make A Fresh Man Of Me,  And To-Morrow

Morning We Will Go To Croyland And See What The Good Abbot

Your Uncle Proposes To Do,  Then Will We To The Hut Where We

Dwelt Before Coming Hither. We Will Dig Up The Chest And

Take Out Such Valuables As We Can Carry,  And Then Make For

Wessex. After This Day's Work I Have No Longer Any Hope That

East Anglia Will Successfully Oppose The Danes. And Yet The

Angles Fought Well,  And For Every One Of Them Who Has Fallen

In These Two Days' Fighting At Least Four Danes Must Have

Perished. Have You Food,  Edmund,  For In Truth After Such A

Day's Work I Would Not Lie Down Supperless?"

"I Have In My Pouch Here,  Egbert,  Some Cakes,  Which I

Cooked This Morning,  And A Capon Which One Of The Monks

Of Croyland Gave Me. I Was Tempted To Throw It Away

As I Ran."

"I Am Right Glad,  Edmund,  That The Temptation Was Not

Too Strong For You. If We Can Find A Spring We Shall Do Well."

It Was Now Getting Dark,  But After An Hour's Walk Through

The Forest They Came Upon A Running Stream. They Lit A Fire

By Its Side,  And Sitting Down Ate The Supper,  Of Which Both

Were In Much Need. Wolf Shared The Repast,  And Then The

Three Lay Down To Sleep. Egbert,  Overcome By The Immense

Exertions He Had Made During The Fight,  Was Soon Asleep; But

Edmund,  Who Had Done His Best To Keep A Brave Face Before

His Kinsman,  Wept For Hours Over The Loss Of His Gallant