Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune

by A. D. Crake

valley, which descended to abrook in the bottom, where the ground rose similarly on the other side,and was crowned by the hostile entrenchment, behind which rose the smokeof the enemy's fires. The heads of numerous soldiers, seen over themound, showed how well they were prepared.

  The entrenchment was dug, the mound thrown up, the sentinels posted, andall in so short a space of time that to the uninitiated in the art ofwar, it would have seemed little short of miraculous; but the disciplineof the Danes, who owed their success generally to the skill with whichthey fortified their camps, had been partially inherited by theiradversaries, and the hus-carles were not even all English: there weremany Danes amongst them.

  The suppers were soon cooked and eaten, the wine circulated freely, andpatriotic songs began to be heard: but there was one who seemed to haveno heart for them--Elfric. At the huge fire, which blazed near theroyal tent, Edwy sat as master of the feast, and he was in a state ofboisterous merriment. But all Elfric's efforts could not hide thedepression of his spirits, and Edwy, who loved him sincerely--for thereader has seen that he was quite capable of love--tried to rouse himfrom it, anxious that no one should suspect the courage of his favourite.

  Once or twice Elfric seemed to make great efforts to overcome thisfeeling of depression, and partially succeeded in veiling it from allbut the observant young king.

  At last the feast was over.

  "My friends," said the king, "we must be stirring early in the morning,so we will now disperse for the night."

  They drank a parting cup, then separated, while the king took Elfric'sarm and led him aside.

  "Elfric," said he, "did I not know my friend and most faithful follower,I should suspect that he feared the morrow's conflict."

  "I cannot help it," said Elfric; "perhaps I do fear it, yet, had I butmy father's forgiveness, could I but see him once more, I could laugh atthe danger. It is not pain or death I fear, but I long to be where youhave been, I would I had gone with you now."

  "So do I."

  "And now I have my forebodings that I shall never hear my father'sforgiveness; and, Edwy, if I die without it, I believe my spirit cannotrest; I shall haunt the spot till the day of doom."

  "This is all moonshine, Elfric. You have not been such a bad fellowafter all; if you go wrong, what will happen to the greater part ofthose amongst us who may die tomorrow? When you once get into the fight,and your blood gets warm, you will be all right; it is only the firstbattle that gives one all these fancies."

  "No; it is not that. I am of a race of warriors, and I do not supposeone of that race ever felt like this in his first battle. I have oftenlooked forward to mine with joy, but now my mind is full of gloomyforebodings: I feel as if some terrible danger, not that of the fight,were hanging over me and mine, and as if I should never meet those I didlove once, either in this world or the next."

  "The next! all we know about that comes from the priestly pratings. Ithink, of the two heavens, Valhalla,[xxviii] with its hunting or fightingby day, its feasting by night, would suit me best. I don't know why weshould think ourselves wiser than our ancestors; they were most likelyright about the matter, if there be another world at all."

  "I cannot disbelieve, if you can," replied poor Elfric, "I have triedto, but I can't. Well, I daresay I shall know all about it by this timetomorrow."

  "Pshaw! let tomorrow take care of itself; 'tis our first fight, Elfric,and we will have no cowardly forebodings; we shall live to laugh at themall. What shall we do with Edgar, if we get him tomorrow? I suppose onemust not shed a brother's blood, even if he be a rebel?"

  "Certainly not; no, no."

  "Perhaps it will be shed for me, and a lucky thrust with sword or lancemay end all our trouble, and leave me sole king; but won't the holy foxDunstan grieve if his pet, his favourite, gets hurt? Come, cheer up,Elfric, my boy; dismiss dull care, and be yourself again!"

  Elfric tried very hard to do so, and again partly succeeded. They hadextended their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a beautifulstarlit night: there was a new moon, which was just going down, and anuncertain light hung about the field which was to be the scene of theconflict. It was one of those bright nights when the very aspect ofnature suggests thoughts of the Eternal and the Infinite; when the mostuntutored being, gazing up into the deep blue void, finds his mindstruggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths conceal; whenthe soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an existenceboundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such were, perhaps,the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old heathen world whenthey placed their departed heroes amongst the constellations; such,perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying apostate Julian to bid hisfollowers weep no more for a prince about to be numbered with the stars.

  Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any othercircumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now theyoppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with themighty Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could notcomprehend; not that which comes from the lance point or the swordblade, but danger which fills the soul with the consciousness of itsexistence, yet is impalpable, not having revealed itself, only its presence.

  "Goodnight, Elfric," said Edwy, as they reached the camp on theirreturn; "goodnight. I hope you will be in better spirits in the morning."

  Edwy retired within the folds which concealed the entrance to his owntent. Close by was the tent appointed for Elfric, who acted as his page;and the latter entered also, and sat down on a camp stool.

  His bed did not seem to invite him; he sat on the seat, his face buriedin his hands; then he suddenly rose, threw himself on his knees, onlyfor a moment, rose up again:

  "I can't, I can't pray; if my fate be death, then come death and welcomethe worst. There will at least be nothing hidden then, nothing behindthe scenes. I will not be a coward."

  The phrase was not yet written--"Conscience makes cowards of us all;"yet how true the principle then as now--true before Troy's renown hadbirth, true in these days of modern civilisation.

  He could not sleep peacefully, although he laid himself down; his handsmoved in the air, as if to drive off some unseen enemy, as if the dangerwhose presence was impalpable to the waking mind revealed itself in sleep.

  "No, no" he muttered; "let the blow fall on me, on me, on me alone!"then he rose as if he would defend some third person from the attack ofan enemy, and the word "Father" once or twice escaped his lips; yet hewas only dreaming.

  "Father!" again he cried, in the accents of warning, as if some imminentdanger menaced the loved one.

  He awoke, stared about, hardly recognising where he was.

  "What can I have been dreaming about?" he cried; "what can it all mean?I thought I was at Aescendune;" and he strove vainly to recall thescenes of his dream.

  The tread of the passing guard was the only sound which broke thestillness of the camp.

  "I cannot sleep," said Elfric, and walked forth.

  The night was waning, and in the east a red glow was creeping upwards;the stars were, however, still brilliant. Opposite, at the distance ofless than a mile, the reflection of the camp fires, now low, revealedthe presence of the enemy; before him the mist slowly arose in whitethin smoke-like wreaths, from the grass whereon many should soon sleeptheir last sleep, now in unconsciousness of their fate.

  "I wonder where I shall lie?" thought Elfric, as if it were certain hewould fall.

  He felt cooler now, as the hour drew near; he watched the red lightcreeping upward, and saw the light clouds above catch the glow, untilthe birds began their songs, the glorious orb arose to gild the comingstrife, and the shrill trumpet in the camp was answered by the distantnotes in the camp of the foe, like an echo afar off.

  CHAPTER XVII. THE SLEEP OF PEACE.

  The first day after the departure of the king from Aescendune passedrapidly away. The soldiers who had remained behind with Redwald werequiet and orderly in their demeanour, and even, in obedience to secretor
ders, attended the evensong at the minster church, as if moved theretoby devotion, although the curious spectator might easily discover theunaccustomed character of their service, by the difficulty with whichthey followed the prayers, and the uneasy impatience with which theylistened to a lengthened exposition of a portion of the Anglo-Saxonversion of the Gospels from Father Cuthbert.

  The old thane and all his family were very anxious, it may be readilybelieved, for the earliest news from the field of battle, for battleevery one agreed was impending; and, to gratify their natural curiosity.Redwald sent out quick and alert members of his troop, to act asmessengers, and bear speedy news from the scene of action.

  The night set in clear and bright, as we have already seen; and whilepoor Elfric was wandering about uneasily beneath