Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune

by A. D. Crake

the loss of blood had not left the vital powersstrength for the maintenance of the due circulation through the body,and the cold night air chilled the frame. He did not at first comprehendwhere he was, but as his senses returned he perceived all too well thathe was left for dead.

  His first impulse was to see whether he had strength to arise. He raisedhimself partially, first on one elbow, and then he strove to stand up,but fell back feebly and helplessly, like an infant who first essays toescape its mother's arms and to trust its feeble limbs.

  Then he looked around him, thus raising his head, and gazed upon the sadand shocking scene. Close by him, with the head cleft literally in twoby a battle-axe, lay a horseman, and his blood reddened all the groundaround Elfric's feet, and had deeply dyed the youth's lower garments; ahorse, his own, lay dead, the jugular vein cut through, with all thesurrounding muscles and sinews; hard by, a rider had fallen with suchimpetus, that his helmet had fixed itself deeply in the ground, and thebody seemed as if it had quivered for the moment in the air; a dart hadtransfixed another through belt and stomach, and he lay with the weaponappearing on either side the body. Near these lay another, whose thighhad been pierced to the great artery, and who had bled to death, as thedeadly paleness of the face showed; here and there one yet lived, asfaint moan and broken utterance testified; but Elfric could bear nomore, his head sank upon the ground, and he hid his face.

  It was bright starlight, and the gleam of the heavenly host seemed tomock the wounded youth as he thought of the previous night, when, soundin body, he had wandered beneath the glittering canopy of the heavens;and thus reminded, all the thoughts of that previous night came backupon him, especially the remembrance of his sin, of his desertion of hisfather, of his vicious life at court, of his neglect for three years andmore of all the obligations of religion, and he groaned aloud in theanguish of his spirit.

  "Oh! spare me, my God!" he cried, "for I am not fit to die! Spare me,that I may at least receive my father's forgiveness."

  For he felt as if he could not ask God to forgive him until he had beenforgiven by his father. Little did he think, poor boy, that that fatherlay cold in death; that never could he hear the blessed words offorgiveness from his tongue; neither had he the consolation of knowinghow completely he had been forgiven, and how lovingly he had beenremembered in his father's last hours upon earth.

  "I cannot die! I cannot die!" thus he cried; and he strove again toraise himself from the ground, but in vain; strove again, as if he wouldhave dragged his feeble body through pain and anguish all the way toAescendune, but could not. The story of the prodigal son, often told himby Father Cuthbert, came back to him, not so much in its spiritual as inits literal aspect: he would fain arise and go to his father; but hecould not.

  "O happy prodigal!" he cried; "thou couldst at least go from that faroff country, and the husks which the swine did eat; but I cannot, I cannot!"

  While thus grieving in bitterness of spirit, he saw a light flittingabout amongst the dead bodies, and stopping every now and then; once hesaw it pause, and heard a cry of expostulation, then a faint scream, andall was still; and he comprehended that this was no ministering angel,but one of those villainous beings who haunt the battlefield to preyupon the slain, and to despatch with short mercy those who offer resistance.

  He lay very, very quiet, hoping that the light would not come near him,and he trembled every time it bent its course that way; but at lengthhis fears seemed about to be realised--it drew near, and he saw theface of a hideous looking hag, dressed in coarse and vile garments, whoheld a bloody dagger in the right hand, and kept the left in a kind ofbag, tied to her person, in which she had evidently accumulated greatstore. Her eyes were roaming about, until the light suddenly wasreflected from the poor lad's brilliant accoutrements, and she advancedtowards him.

  He groaned, and sank backwards, and her hand was upon the dagger, whileshe cast such a look as the fabled vampire might cast upon her destinedvictim, loving gold much, but perhaps blood most, when all at once sheturned and fled.

  Elfric knew not what had saved him; when voices fell upon his ear, andthe baying of a dog.

  "Which way has that hag fled? Pursue her, she murders the wounded."

  The sound of rushing feet was heard, and Elfric felt that help was near,yet leaving him, and he cried aloud, "Help! help! for the love of God."

  One delayed in his course, and came and stood over the prostrate form.It was a monk, for the boy recognised the Benedictine habit, and hisheart sank within him as he remembered how pitilessly he had helped todrive that habit from Glastonbury.

  "Art thou grievously wounded, my son?"

  "I feel faint, even unto death, with loss of blood. Oh! remove me, andbear me home; if thou art a man of God leave me not here to perish in mysins."

  The piteous appeal went to the heart of the monk, and he knelt down, andby the aid of a small lamp, examined the wounds of the sufferer.

  "Thou mayst yet live, my son," he said; "tell me where is thy home; isit in Mercia?"

  "It is! it is! My home is Aescendune; it is not far from here."

  "Aescendune--knowest thou Father Cuthbert?"

  "I do indeed; he was my tutor, once my spiritual father."

  "Thy name?"

  "Elfric, son of the thane Ella."

  The monk started, then raised a loud cry, which speedily brought two orthree men in the dress of thralls (theows) to his side.

  "She will murder no more, father; the dog overtook her, and held hertill we came; she was red with blood, and we knocked her down; Oswy herebrained her with his club."

  "It is well--she deserved her fate; but, Oswy, look at this face."

  "St. Wilfred preserve us!" cried the man "it is the young lord. He isnot dying, is he? She hadn't hurt him--the she-wolf?"

  "No, we were just in time, and only just in time; we must carry him hometo his father."

  The monk had started for the expected scene of battle, intent on doinggood, with a small party of the thralls of Aescendune, just after Edwyhad left the hall; consequently, he knew nothing of the death of thethane or the subsequent events. Oh, how sweetly his words fell uponElfric's ears, "Carry him home to his father."

  A litter was speedily made; one of the thralls jumped into a willow treewhich overhung the stream, and cut down some of the stoutest boughs. Theothers wove them with withes into a kind of litter, threw their ownupper garments thereon in their love, placed the poor wounded form astenderly upon it as a mother would have done, and bore him from thefield, ever and anon stopping to relieve some other poor woundedsufferer, and to comfort him with the intelligence that similar aid wasat hand for all, as the various lights now appearing testified.

  For themselves, they felt all other obligation fade before their duty totheir young lord. He was object of their solicitude.

  So they bore him easily along, until they reached a stream; there theypaused and washed the heated brow, and allowed the parched lips toimbibe, but only slightly, the pure fresh beverage, sweeter far than thestimulant the good monk had poured down his throat on the field. Thenthey arranged his dress--bound up his wounds, for the Benedictine wasan accomplished surgeon for the times; after which, having satisfiedhimself that his patient was able to bear the transit, he departed, witha cheerful benediction, to render the like aid to others.

  So comforted was Elfric, and so relieved from pain, that he slept allthrough the following hours, as they bore him along through woodlandpaths; and he dreamt that he had met his father and was clasped lovinglyin his forgiving arms.

  At daybreak they were six or seven miles from the camp, and they rested,for the continued effort had wearied the bearers. They made a fire,cooked their breakfast, and tried to persuade Elfric to eat, which hedid, sparingly.

  Then they resumed their journey; they kept as much in the shade aspossible, for it was a bright day; rested again at noontide, with onlyfive or six miles before them; started when the heat was a littleoverpast, and just after sunset came in sight of the halls of
Aescendune, from the opening in the forest whence Elfric had beheld themthat night when he first brought Prince Edwy home in company with hisbrother Alfred.

  The wounded youth raised himself up, looked with intense affection atthe home of his youth, and sank back contented on his couch, thinkingonly of father and mother, brother and sister, and the sweet forgivenesshe felt sure awaited him. Poor boy!

  It was almost dark when they reached the gate of the castle, and thedrawbridge was up. One of the bearers blew his horn loudly, and thesummons brought the warder to the little window over the postern gate.

  "Who are you, and what do you seek?" was the cry.

  "We are bringing my young lord, Elfric of Aescendune, home from thebattlefield wounded."

  "Wait a while."

  A few minutes passed; then the drawbridge was lowered, and the bearersbore