CHAPTER I. THE DIARY OF FATHER CUTHBERT.
All Saints' Day, 1002.
Inasmuch as I, Cuthbert, by the long-suffering of the Divine goodness,am prior of the Benedictine house of St. Wilfrid at Aescendune, itseems in some sort my duty, following the example of many worthybrethren, to write some account of the origin and history of thepriory over which it has pleased God to make me overseer, and to note,as occasion serves from time to time, such passing events as seemworthy of remembrance; which record, deposited in the archives of thehouse, may preserve our memory when our bodies are but dust, and otherbrethren fill our places in the choir. Perhaps each generation thinksthe events which happen in its own day more remarkable than any whichhave preceded, and that its own period is the crisis of the fate ofChurch or State. Yet surely no records of the past, extant, tell us ofsuch dark threatening clouds as hang over the realm of England at thistime; when the thousandth year since our blessed Lord's nativityhaving passed, we seem to be entering on those awful plagues which theApocalypse tells us must precede the consummation of all things.
But we who trust in the Lord have a strong tower wherein to hide, andwe know of a land where there is no darkness or shadow of death;therefore we will not fear though the earth be moved, and the hills becarried into the midst of the sea.
This house of St. Wilfrid was founded by Offa, Thane of Aescendune, inthe year of the Lord 938, and completed by his son and successor Ella,who was treacherously murdered by his nephew Ragnar, and lies buriedwithin these sacred walls. The first prior was Father Cuthbert, mygodfather, after whom I was named. He was appointed by Dunstan, justthen on the point of leaving England to escape the rage of the wickedand unhappy Edwy, and continued to exercise the authority until theyear 975, the year in which our lamented king, Edgar the Magnanimous,departed to his heavenly rest, with whose decease peace and prosperityseemed likewise to depart.
Father Godric succeeded him, under whose paternal rule we enjoyedpeace for ten years. Truly the memory of the just is blessed. He diedin 985, and then was I chosen by the votes of the chapter to be theirprior, and my election was confirmed by the holy Dunstan, who himselfadmitted me to mine office.
And truly the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places, darkalthough--as I have said--the times are. The priory lies on the banksof the glorious Avon, where the forests come nearly down to its banks.Above us rises a noble hill, crowned with the oak and the beech,beneath whose shade many a deer and boar repose, and their flesh, whenbrought thither to gladden our festivals, is indeed toothsome andsavoury.
Our buildings are chiefly of wood, although the foundations are ofstone. The great hall is floored and lined with oak, while thechapel--the Priory Church the people call it--excels for limning andgilding, as well as for the beauty of its tapestry, any church in thispart of Mercia. Our richest altar cloth is made of the purple robewhich King Edgar wore at his consecration, and which he sent to thethane Alfred of Aescendune for the Priory Church as a token of therespect and favour he bore him. And also he gave a veil of goldembroidery which representeth the destruction of Troy. It is hung upongreat days over the dais at the high table of the hall.
The monastery is well endowed with lands by the liberality of itsfirst founder, as appears in the deeds preserved in our great munimentchest. We have ten hides of woodland, wherein none may cut wood savefor our use in the winter; five hides of arable land, and the sameextent of pasturage for cattle. Now for the care of the culturethereof we have a hundred serfs attached to the glebe, who, we trust,do not find us unkind lords.
There are twenty brethren who have taken the final vows according tothe rule of St. Benedict, and ten novices, besides six lay brethren,and other our chief servitors. We keep the monastic hours, duly risingat daybreak to sing our lauds, and lying down after compline, with thepeace and blessing of Him who alone maketh us dwell in safety.
Our daily work is not light. We preach on Sundays and festivals in thepriory church. We visit the sick. We instruct the youth in theelements of Christian doctrine. We superintend the labours of thosewho till the soil. We copy the sacred writings. In short, we have agreat deal to do, and I fear do it very imperfectly sometimes.
I will add a few words only about myself. I am the third son ofAlfred {i}, thane of Aescendune, and his wife the Lady Alftrude ofRollrich. Elfric, my eldest brother, died young. Elfwyn is now thane,and I, the third boy, was given to the Church, for which I had everfelt a vocation, perhaps from my love to my godfather. We only had onesister, Bertha, and she has married the Thane Herstan of Clifton, nearDorchester, the seat of our good bishop Aelfhelm, and the shrine ofholy Birinus.
My father and mother both sleep the sleep of the just. They lived tosee their children happy and prosperous, and then departed amidst thelamentations of all who had known and loved them. Taken from the evilto come, we cannot mourn them, nor would we call them back, althoughwe sorely missed their loved forms. They were full of years, yet agehad not dimmed their faculties. My father died in the year 998, mymother the following year. They rest by the side of their ancestors inthe priory church.
My brother Elfwyn married Hilda, the daughter of Ceolfric, a Thane ofWessex, in the year 985. He has two children--Bertric, a fine lad oftwelve, and as good as he is manly; and Ethelgiva, a merry girl often. His household is well-ordered and happy--nurtured in theadmonition of the Lord.
For myself I have had many offers of promotion in the brotherhood ofSt. Benedict, but have refused them. I was once offered the highoffice of abbot in one of our great Benedictine houses, but I wishedto be near my own people and my father's house, and here I trust Ishall stay till I seek a continuing city, whose builder and maker isGod.
And now a little about the state of the country round us. In thisneighbourhood we have as yet been preserved from the evils of war, butfor many years past the Danes, those evil men, have renewed theirinroads, as they used to make them before the great King Alfredpacified the country. They began again in the year 980, and, with butslight intermission, have continued year by year.
The awful prophecy which God forced from the lips of Dunstan {ii},at the coronation of our most unhappy king, has been too sadlyfulfilled. Ah me! I fear the curse of the saints is upon him. When theholy bishop departed this life, I was one of the few who stood roundhis bed, and as he foretold of the evil to come, he bade us all bearour portion manfully, for the time, he said, would be short in whichto endure, and the eternal crown secure.
Many of those to whom he spoke have since died the martyr's or thepatriot's death, but as yet no evil has reached us at Aescendune,although many parts of Wessex, nay, all the sea coast and the banks ofthe great rivers have been wasted with fire and sword, and the moneywhich has been given the barbarians has been worse than wasted, forthey only come for more.
Our armies seem led by traitors; our councils, sad to say, by fools.Nothing prospers, and thoughtless people say the saints are asleep.Every day we say the petition in our Litany, "That it would pleaseThee to abate the cruelty of our pagan enemies, and to turn theirhearts; we beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord," and we must wait Histime, and pray for strength to submit to His will.
Around the priory live the serfs, the theows, and ceorls of theestate, each in his own little cottage, save the domestics, who liveat the Hall, which is only half-a-mile distant.
On Sundays and Saints' days they all assemble in our minster church.It was full this day at the high mass, and I preached them a homilyupon the Saints, great part of which I took from a sermon I once heardthe holy Dunstan preach. And he showed us how saints did not live idlelives on this earth, but always went about, like their Lord andMaster, doing good, and that through much tribulation they entered theeternal kingdom, which also bids fair to be our lot nowadays, althoughwe be all miserable sinners, and not saints.
Ah! how I thought of the dear ones we have lost when the Gospel wasread at mass, about the great multitude which no man could number, andI almost seemed as if I could see father, mother, and Elfric there. Iw
ould not wish them back; yet my heart is very lonely sometimes. Iwonder whether they remember now that it is All Saints' Day, and thatwe are thinking of them. Yes, I am sure they must do so.
There have been few troubles from the Danes, close at hand; so fewthat they seem trivial in comparison with those our countrymen sufferelsewhere. Still we have many of the pagans living as settlers in ourneighbourhood, whose presence is tolerated for fear of the reprisalswhich might follow any acts of hostility against them. Kill one Dane,the people say, and a hundred come to his funeral. Many of thesesettlers have acquired their lands peaceably, but others by the strongarms of their ancestors in periods of ancient strife; and these havebeen allowed to keep their possessions for generations, so that ifthey did not retain their heathen customs we might forget they werenot Englishmen.
One of these lives near us. His name is Anlaf. Some say he boasts ofbeing a descendant of that Anlaf who once ravaged England, and wasdefeated at Brunanburgh. He married an English girl, whose heart, theysay, he broke by his cruelty. They had one child, Alfgar by name.
The mother died a Christian. Taking my life in my hands, I penetratedtheir fortalice, and administered the last sacrament to her; but theythreatened my life for entering their domains, and, perhaps, had Ibeen but a simple priest, and not also, small boast as it is, the sonof a powerful English thane, whom they feared to offend, I had died indoing my duty. When the poor girl was dying she committed the boy aswell as she could to my care, begging me to see that he was baptized;but the father has prevented me from carrying out her wishes,asserting that he would sooner slay the lad.
But it seems as if the boy retained some traces of his mother's faith;over and over again I have seen him hiding in some remote corner ofthe church during service time, but he has always shrunk away when anyof the brethren attempted to speak to him.
I am sure he wishes to be a Christian.
I may, perhaps, find a chance of speaking to him, and a few words mayreach his heart. He knows my brother's family, and has once or twicejoined them in expeditions in the woods, and even entered their gates.His must be a lonely life at home; there are no other children, butfrom time to time hoary warriors, upon whose souls lies, I fear, theguilt of much innocent blood, find a home there.
November 2d.--
This morning we said the office and mass for the dead, as usual on AllSouls' Day. My brother Elfwyn and his children were, of course,present. That boy, Bertric, with all his boyish spirit and brightness,is very pious. It was a sight which I thought might gladden theirguardian angels to see him and his sister kneeling with clasped handsat their uncle Elfric's tomb, and when service was over, they made metell them the old old story about the first Elfric, the brother of myfather, and how my father rescued him when the old castle wasburnt {iii}.
When I had told them the story, I saw my brother was anxious to say afew words to me.
"Cuthbert," he said, "have you seen the young Dane, Alfgar, lately?"
"Not very long since," I replied; "he was at mass yesterday."
"Because I believe the lad longs to be a Christian, but does not darespeak to any one."
"He fears his stern father."
"Yes, Anlaf might slay him if he was to be baptized; yet baptized I amsure he will be, sooner or later."
"Does the boy love his father, I wonder?" said I, musingly.
"Doubtless; it would be unnatural did he not; but perhaps he loves thememory of his mother yet more. We both knew her, Cuthbert."
"Yes, when she was a bright-hearted merry village maiden. PoorKyneswith!"
"For her sake, then, let us both try to do something for the boy."
"With all my heart. I will seek an opportunity of speaking to him,perhaps he may unburden his mind."
"Have you seen Edric the sheriff?" asked Elfwyn.
"Not lately. Has he been here?"
"He has, and there was something in connection with his visit whichtroubled me. He had been telling me for a long time about thecruelties and insolence of the Danes, when he added, in a markedmanner, that they might go too far, for hundreds of their countrymen,like Anlaf here, were living unprotected amongst us."
"What could he mean?"
"I understood him to hint that we might revenge ourselves upon them,and replied that whatever their countrymen might be guilty of, ourneighbours would, of course, always be safe amongst Christians."
"What did he reply?"
"He changed the subject."
Elfwyn said no more, but bade me goodbye and returned to the castle;still I saw that he was a little discomposed by the sheriff's words. Idon't like that sheriff; he is a cruel and a crafty man; but I daresayhis words were only the expression of a passing thought.
Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune Page 2
