Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune

by A. D. Crake

casting her beams on the ruins, as she had once castthem on the beauteous city; its basilicas, palaces, and temples yetstanding.

  At this moment their guide came hastily to them.

  "We are in some danger, father. Horsemen, twelve of them, are gallopingalong the Foss Way in spite of the storm."

  Dunstan left the shelter, which was no longer needed, the rain havingceased, and followed the guide to the summit of the huge mound whichmarked the fall of some giant bastion of early days. From that positionthey could see the Foss Way, now about half-a-mile distant in the brightmoonlight, and Dunstan's eye at once caught twelve figures--horsemen--sweeping down it like the wind, which brought the sound of theirpassage faintly to the ear.

  "Wait," he said, "and see whether they pass the bypath; in that case weare safe."

  The whole party was now on the mound, their persons carefully concealedfrom the view of the horsemen, while they watched their passage withintense anxiety. The enemy reached the bypath; eleven of them passedover it, but the twelfth reined his horse suddenly, almost upon itshaunches, and pointed to the ground. He had evidently seen the tracks ofthe fugitives upon the soft turf.

  The next moment they all turned their horses into the bypath.

  "Follow," said the guide; and they all rushed eagerly down the mound andmounted at once.

  "Follow me closely; I think I can save you from them; only lose not amoment."

  The guide led them by a wandering path amongst the ruins, where theirtracks would leave the least trace, until he passed through a gap in theexternal fortifications on the opposite side. Then he rode rapidly alonga descending path in the woods, until the sound of rushing water greetedtheir ears, and they arrived on the brink of a small river which wasswollen by the violent rain, and which dashed along an irregular andstony bed with fearful impetuosity.

  There was but one mode of crossing it: a bridge constructed of plankswas thrown over, which one horseman might pass at a time. The wholeparty rode over in safety, although the crazy old bridge bent terriblybeneath the weight of each rider.

  But when all were over, the guide motioned to Alfred and Oswy to remainbehind for one moment, while the monks proceeded. He threw himself fromhis horse, and taking the axe which he had slung behind him, commencedhacking away at the bridge. But although the bridge was old, yet it wastough; and although Alfred, and Oswy who was armed with a smallbattle-axe, assisted with all their might, the work seemed long.

  Before it was completed, they heard the voices of their pursuers callingto each other amongst the ruins. They had evidently lost the track, andwere separating to find it.

  Crash went one huge plank into the raging torrent, then a second, andbut one beam remained, when a horseman emerged from the trees opposite,and by the light of the moon Alfred recognised his brother.

  Desperate in the excitement of the chase, Elfric leapt from his horse,and drawing his sword rushed upon the bridge.

  Alfred, who felt it tremble, cried:

  "Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!" while at the same moment,true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt atoffence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric'spassage over the beam.

  Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had alreadystepped from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, androll, with Alfred, who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, intothe torrent beneath, which swept both beam and man away with resistlessforce.

  CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED.

  The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfredof Aescendune, whom we left in so critical a position.

  The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcelyknew where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream bythe raging waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dearlife. But the only result seemed to be that he was bruised and batteredagainst the rocks and stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point ofsuccumbing to his fate, as the current bore him into a calm deep pool,where he sank helplessly, his strength gone. But the guide and hiscompanion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, which wasinaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the waters,the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan andthe other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brotherwas skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soonhad the happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he raisedhis head, and gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to realisehis position.

  "Where am I? What have I been doing?" he exclaimed.

  "You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends," repliedDunstan, "although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are securefor the present from our foes."

  They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, andthe abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords andbridges.

  "There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will findthey cannot cross it."

  "Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse."

  "There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and trueman."

  "Then lead us to it at once," replied Dunstan.

  Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored Dunstannot to endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid noattention. They reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and theeast was bright with rosy light. It was such a place as the great king,after whom Alfred was named, had found refuge in when pressed by theDanes. It was poor, but neat and clean beyond the usual degree; and whenthe wants of their early visitors were known, and Dunstan wasrecognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause.

  All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he wasmanifestly too shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving himhis fatherly blessing, Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on,leaving him in the care of Oswy.

  They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their ownhorses were comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, andthose of their foes would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ridealong the Foss Way, and their exertions to pass the stream.

  So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that,gaining the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, ontheir part, beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spurtheir horses on.

  It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of amile or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, althoughit must be remembered that a false step or slip, or any accident, wouldhave been fatal.

  "I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town," [xxv]said the guide; "but if the abbot has no objection, I should preferleaving them to pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route,which I have often travelled; it is a very good one."

  "By all means," said Dunstan, "and then we may slacken this furious pace."

  They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a trackof dry stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a wildheath, put a copse between them and the enemy, who did not this timediscover for miles the absence of the footprints, for the soil was verydry and hard, the storm not having passed that way, and the foe wereintent upon hard riding.

  So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from whichthey obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and thewestern sun, sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe,reddened the waters with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethrenthanked God.

  "We have come to the setting sun," said they, "and at eventide have seenlight; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us."

  But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, wouldallow them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing villageon the coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was just aboutto put out for an evening's fishing, but at the earnest request of hisvisitors, backed by m
uch gold, he consented to take them over to theopposite coast.

  "The weather promises to be very clear and fine," he said; "and we maysail across without any danger."

  It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor wasloosed, the sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly outto sea. They were quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. Atlast they heard the sound of horsemen galloping on the fast-recedingshore, and looking back, they saw twelve riders reach the beach, andpause, looking wistfully out to sea.

  "Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; thesnare is broken, and we are delivered," said Dunstan.

  "Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven andearth," replied Father Guthlac.

  Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were broken,he was only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his earnest wish