Chapter XXIII “The Conclusion of the Whole Matter.”
A few days after the decisive battle near Chillerton Down, Ædric, who had been sitting with Malachi and the invalids, went out to get some fresh air. He wandered up the hill behind the homestead to a freshly-raised mound on the hill side, looking away towards the Sussex shore, and commanding views of the far distant Andreadesweald. Here Athelhune had been buried, with his arms and battle-axe, like a free Saxon eorldoman, with his face towards the East, looking to the woods and the land where he had fought so well for his friend and king, Cædwalla, in the time of his adversity.
Ædric sat down on the newly-laid turf, and gazed towards Selsea. As he sat he fell into a deep reverie. He thought over all that had passed since that awful night when Arwald surprised their home, and he and Wulfstan and Biggun had had to fly over the water, they knew not where. He thought of the fearful slaughter that had since taken place; the dreadful suffering of the poor people, driven from their homes; the death in battle, in cold blood, and in misery of so many human beings. He saw how poverty, hunger, wretchedness, fell upon every one by the perpetual destruction going on. Cædwalla was nearly dead; Ceolwulf was prostrate; Wulfstan was only just showing signs of recovery; brother Malachi had received a desperate wound; Athelhune and Osborn were dead; and Wulf the Atheling might be dead, too, for all he knew; while his father, Ælfhere, as well as himself, would bear their wounds to their graves with them. And yet they and their party were victorious. They had won all the glory, all the land, all the wealth; and this was what their noblest, most cherished ideas pointed to. Could anything be more complete? Arwald was dead; all his bravest warriors were dead too, and all the rest of his supporters were being ruthlessly hunted down and slain. They were drinking to the full the cup of victory. Could anything be more triumphant? What more could heroes do? They had gloriously chopped in pieces their enemies, and were entering into possession of their goods. But meanwhile the people were mostly starving, and the women and children were suffering terribly; but
“Things like that, you know, must be at every famous victory.”
And then Ædric thought of the monks—their kindness, their simplicity, their total surrender of themselves for others, their perpetual striving to conquer what, he could not help seeing, might make an individual great according to a slave’s idea of greatness, but could only make all others miserable. For what was it the monks strove to overcome? Certainly nothing of anybody else’s belongings, but their own passions, their own want of charity, their own worldly desires, their own incomprehension of the love of God; in fact, the world, the flesh, and the devil. And then he thought of the dead man below him, and he remembered all that had been told him of the shortness of this life and the certainty of death, and after death the judgment; and he remembered how terrible it had seemed to him, as Father Dicoll talked, if he should die, and have to enter upon eternity without having tried to follow the Christ-life while here on earth. The words of the Master, Christ, had often been told him, when He said, “Verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to Me; and these shall go away into ever-lasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal.” Truly, death was very near; would it not be better to give up everything for the love of God? What could the world offer to him that for the brief space of this life could make up for the loss of life eternal? The truth of the question he had so often heard from brother Corman came back to him—What would it profit him if he gained the whole world and lost his own soul? or what could he give in exchange for his soul?
As Ædric thought over all these things, his eyes were fixed upon a distant speck beyond the entrance to Brædynge Haven. It was a boat, and was coming fast before the north-east breeze. For some few minutes he dreamily watched it. He saw it enter the narrow mouth of the harbour, and wondered who could be in it. The men on board evidently knew the channel. As the boat drew nearer his interest increased. “Who could it be?” And then it flashed across him that it must be Wilfrid. He jumped up with excitement, waited a minute to make certain, and then ran down as fast as he could, burst into the room where Malachi was, and shouted out the news.
All was bustle in the homestead. Ælfhere was anxious to receive the great man properly, and all the servants were sent here and there, and the cackling among the fowls told of slaughter going on there. Some of the servants were sent down with Ædric to receive the bishop.
It was as Ædric had guessed: the boat ran ashore, near the hard; the servants hastily put out boards on a trestle for the bishop to land, and presently Wilfrid, Hildila, and Bernwine disembarked on the shore.
The greeting between Ædric and the bishop was cordial, and Bernwine patted him on the head, with a pleasant smile, saying, “I told thee I wanted to see this island of thine, and here I am.” The party then went up to the homestead, Ædric pointing out objects of interest as they went. The Wihtwaras were much impressed with Wilfrid’s appearance, and the respect their young eorl paid him, as well as from the report of the magic charms he had with him, and which were relics he had brought from Rome.
Ælfhere welcomed his guests courteously, and the rest of the day passed in pleasant talk. Malachi asked eagerly after Father Dicoll and Corman, and was delighted to hear that both were well, the former having quite recovered from his wound, and that they sent him affectionate greetings. A messenger was despatched at once to announce the arrival of the bishop, and ask for instructions.
Ælfhere was pleased, as well as all his household, at the gentle manners and interesting conversation of Wilfrid and his attendant priests, and the evening passed away in pleasant intercourse. The stories Wilfrid had to tell of foreign lands, and the wonders of Rome, astonished every one. There was nothing he could not talk about; and when he asked permission, before retiring to rest, to have a little service in the hall, Ælfhere willingly gave his consent, and was much impressed with the earnestness, as well as ceremony, of the Christian ministers. There had never been seen anything like it, and all the household retired to rest awestruck and interested.
The next morning the messenger returned from Cædwalla, desiring that Wilfrid should come to him at once. The bishop, therefore, took an affectionate leave of his hospitable entertainer, and went off to Wihtgaresbyryg, leaving Bernwine behind to instruct and convert Ælfhere, already thoroughly predisposed to accept Christianity, through the example of Malachi and old Deva, to whom the late intercourse with Malachi had been a great happiness.
Ædric accompanied Wilfrid and Hildila, and when they arrived at the castle of Wihtgar they found there was some important discussion going on. When they entered the courtyard they found a few men loitering about, all armed and fully equipped for some expedition, and the eorl in command was just bidding them to fall in, as a tall, noble-looking man came out of the house where Cædwalla was lying. His face wore a sad look, and he walked past Wilfrid and his party without appearing to see them. He was dressed in monastic garb, and his head was bare, showing the tonsure cut in the orthodox western fashion.
Wilfrid inquired who he was, but no one knew. As soon as he had joined the eorldoman, the armed men defiled through the gate, and went down the hill towards the Medene, where the mast of a boat could be seen over the woods that lay between the creek and the castle; for the new port had not yet risen at the head of the estuary.
As soon as it was announced to Cædwalla that Wilfrid had come, he gave orders that he should be at once admitted, and the bishop was ushered into his presence.
The wounded king was lying on a couch, looking pale and worn. The wound in his arm had healed, but the severe cut in his neck had proved a difficult matter, as Cædwalla was impatient of control, and chafed at his enforced inaction. At the entrance of the bishop he tried to rise, and was only induced to lie down again by the urgent remonstrances of Wilfrid.
“Thou seest, bishop, thou and I can never meet without my having gained a victory. Truly, the more often I meet thee, the better I shall be pleased.”
“I trust, my son, thou wilt have no more enemies to fight. The Lord has been merciful to thee, and saved thee in the midst of great dangers. I hope thou wilt be spared to perform a good work among the people He has committed to thy charge.”
“I hope so too,” answered Cædwalla coldly. “But I call to mind thy telling me how a great heretoga and chieftain led his people into a promised land, and slew every man, woman, and child of its former inhabitants, and thou saidest he was a man approved of by thy God. I have tried to do the same. There will not soon be any of these Wihtwaras left. I trust I shall receive thy blessing for the thorough way I have tried to imitate that eorldoman Joshua, as thou calledst him.”
Wilfrid sighed. Like many other Christian missionaries he wished he had not so impressed the savage mind with the conquests and wars of the Israelites,1 but he prudently answered:
“My son, before thou exterminatest, thou hast to prove that thou hast the right to punish. Joshua was the chosen leader of God’s own people, appointed to execute God’s command upon a desperately wicked nation, given up to every abomination. I do not yet know that thou art trying to introduce the love of Christianity among even thine own people, or that it has been offered to the poor victims thou tellest me thou art slaying. And even supposing thou wert a follower of our Lord, and the Wihtwaras were all pagans, who stubbornly refused to accept the Truth, that would not of itself give thee any title to kill or persecute them. But let me hear how thou art faring?”
“Oh, well enough! I shall be able to mount a horse in a few days, I hope,” and then the conversation turned upon various matters, until Wilfrid discovered that the ecclesiastic whom he had met as he entered, was the Abbot Cynebercht of Reodbrygge (now Redbridge), and that he had come on an important mission. As Cædwalla did not seem inclined to talk about him, Wilfrid did not pursue the subject. And the king went on to say that he intended bestowing upon Wilfrid three hundred hides of land in Wihtea, as a proof of his affection for him and in thank-offering for the great successes he had achieved, and which he attributed to the protection and influence of Wilfrid’s prayer and the possession of the marvellous charms or reliques he had brought from Rome. The bishop, perhaps from motives of policy, perhaps from real belief, did not attempt to make light of his power; indeed he did all he could to foster this idea and belief in the miraculous efficacy of relics, and his own influence as the minister of God’s church here below, hoping that the more the fierce West Saxon king was impressed with his power and sanctity, the more he would be able to guide him in the way he wanted. Wilfrid therefore accepted the donation which amounted to more than a fourth of the whole of Wihtea, but he handed it over to his kinsman, Bernwine, with the understanding that he was to use the wealth arising from it for the purpose of charitable works and the promotion of the Christian faith, but especially in the redemption of captives and slaves. By this noble method the introduction of Christianity was associated with freedom and human sympathy, and all men blessed the humanity of Wilfred.
After a little desultory conversation, Wilfrid rose to leave Cædwalla to repose, and was conducted to the rooms prepared for him. He was now able to learn more particulars of the Abbot Cynebercht’s mission, and was grieved to hear that he had come on a fruitless errand of mercy. It appeared that after the capture, or rather occupation, of Wihtgaresbyryg, search had been made for Arwald’s two sons who were known to be living there. They could not be found anywhere, and at last, after long search and inquiry, it was discovered that they had been conveyed away out of the island to Stoneham, and were there kept in hiding. Cædwalla, in fulfilment of his vow, sent immediately to have them executed, but the good Abbot of Reodbrygge, hearing of the order went over to Stoneham and delayed the execution of the sentence until he had been to the island and seen Cædwalla. He had come over at once, and had striven hard with the West Saxon king to spare the lives of the innocent boys, but to no purpose; all he could obtain was, that he might be allowed time to instruct them in Christianity, and so secure them the blessings of eternal life. Cædwalla would have spared them, only he felt bound by his oath of vengeance on the race of Arwald, and no arguments of Cynebercht could make him feel or see that any circumstances could justify him in breaking his word. Sad at heart, therefore, the worthy abbot had returned with the party who were to carry out Cædwalla’s sentence. Horrified at the cruelty of the execution, Wilfrid was going back at once to Cædwalla to ask him to send after Cynebercht, when his eyes lighted on Ædric.
“Ædric, my son, thou hast suffered much at the hands of Arwald. Show now that thou canst forgive thine enemies; go at once to Cædwalla, remind him of what Ceolwulf did for him”—for the whole story had been told as Wilfrid rode from Brædynge to Wihtgaresbyryg—“and recall to him his promise, and, in the old man’s name, implore him to spare the lives of these innocent babes. Quick! or it will be too late.”
Ædric, as soon as he had grasped the situation, at once asked to be conducted to Cædwalla’s presence. The boy was promptly ushered in, and laid his request before the king. Cædwalla frowned, but listened, and at last said, “If thou canst cross in time, thou mayest tell them to spare their lives; but I insist on their going into a monastery, and becoming monks. There! go, and let them thank old Ceolwulf for their lives.”
Ædric required no second bidding. He hastened off joyfully to Wilfrid, who gave directions for him to go down with an escort to the water-side, and get a boat as soon as possible, and make all the speed he could after the abbot. There was some little delay in getting away, and it was nearly dark before they left Wihtgaresbyrig. On reaching the water’s edge they found the tide was out, and all the boats were aground, and would not float before midnight, and then no one would take them down the long and shallow creek in the dark. So, weary and sad, Ædric had to return to Wilfrid, feeling sure that the sentence would be carried out before any one could reach Stoneham.
Early the next morning a messenger arrived with the news that the two young eorls had been beheaded, but that Cynebercht had baptised them first, and they had died tranquilly and happy, “in the certain hope of exchanging a temporary for an immortal and blissful existence.”
Cædwalla was very sorry really for what had occurred, but, being proud and haughty in all that concerned his private acts, he would not allow openly that he had done wrong. However, he listened to Wilfrid’s upbraidings without betraying much impatience, and gave way so far as to issue orders for the relentless slaughter of the Wihtwaras to cease, and he professed a desire to know more of the Christian faith.
Several days were passed by Wilfrid at Wihtgaresbyryg, and were employed by him in organising a system of government of the island, under the rule of Cædwalla, making it a point that the estates which the West Saxon king had bestowed upon him should be especially well managed by Bernwine, whose sound business capacity he had already experienced. The eorldoman Ælfhere was appointed head man in the island, and lands were given to the warriors who had fought with Cædwalla; and the wisest of them, who were already Christians, formed, together with Bernwine and Hildila, who had been asked to stay in the island by Wilfrid, an assembly of wise men, or Witan, who were to assist Ælfhere in the administration of justice, but the executive power was left entirely in the eorldoman’s hands.
And now there remains little more to add. Ælfhere the Eorldoman, and all his household were received into the fellowship of the Christian Church, and the example of the leading man in the island was followed by the rest of the inhabitants. Brother Malachi remained a little while, and then, seeing that the customs which he venerated were opposed to the Latin form of Christianity, introduced by the adherents of the Romanizing Wilfrid, he withdrew to Boseham, where the three excellent monks continued their unostentatious labours for the benefit of the rude South Saxons. As they lived longer they seemed to become more imbued with the real charity that “vaunteth not itself;” and for fear of causing a schism among their converts, gradually laid less and less stress on such matters as the cut of the tonsure, or the keeping of Easter, although the thought would occur to them, If such matters were trifles, why should not their opponents equally treat them as such, and not inveigh against their tenets, as if they were unorthodox and schismatics? As far as real self-denying, self-obliterating work went, the poor monks of Boseham were true imitators of their blessed Master; but the organising power of the splendid Wilfrid, enamoured as he was of the pomp of the See of Rome, and fascinated by the idea of Christian unity, governed by a visible, earthly head, to whom all workers in God’s vineyard could appeal for protection and advice against the tyranny of earthly sovereigns, was too much for mere unambitious, humble-minded men, and the glories of the rising cathedral of Selsea blotted out the memory of the simple Irish or Scottish monks.
Ædric and Wulfstan preserved an affectionate remembrance of them, and Ælfhere always sent over a boat at Easter and Christmas, with farm and dairy produce for the good old men, who distributed it among their poorer neighbours. In this way they became much more venerated, and when they died there was much lamentation for them among their little flock.
Ædric, after his public reception into the Christian faith, obtained permission from his father to accompany Wilfrid to the north, and finally he was solemnly ordained a deacon; and, after returning to the Wihtea, and assisting Bernwine and Hildila in the conversion of his countrymen, attracted by the noble purpose of Boniface or Winfrid, the apostle of Germany, whom he had met at Netley, amid the lovely woods by the side of Southampton Water, he accompanied that holy man to the homes of his heathen forefathers, and met a martyr’s death among the wild Saxons on the banks of the Elbe; curiously enough, within a few miles of the place where his ancestor had lived who first took part in the Jutish occupation of Wihtea.
The future of St. Wilfrid is well-known. How he accompanied Cædwalla to Wessex, subsequently became reconciled to Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, was re-instated in the episcopal see of York, again urged the interminable controversy of the tonsure and Paschal moon, with Aldfrid, king of Northumbria, who had been educated in “piety and learning” by some Irish monks; how he stigmatised the successor of Theodore as a schismatic, boasted of his support by the successor of St. Peter, and at the synod of Æastanfeld, dilated on his labours to “extirpate the poisonous plants of Scottish growth,” and appealed from the judgment of his lawful sovereign and fellow churchman to the Apostolic see of Rome. How, finally, he went off to Rome once more, at the age of seventy, and obtained from the Pope, John V., a decree in his favour, and finally died in his monastery of Oundle; all these facts are the province of history.
The future of Cædwalla is more mysterious and romantic. After he had thoroughly secured the allegiance of Wihtea to Wessex, and established himself firmly on the throne of Cerdic, he led an army into Kent, and ravaged that country. During this campaign his brother Wulf, or Mollo, the Atheling, acting in his usual reckless manner, was surprised by the Kentish men, and burned to death. This tragedy so acted upon Cædwalla, who was already nominally a Christian, that he determined to lay aside the royal power and journey to Rome to seek absolution for his sins committed during his many wars. His change of life seems to have been carried out with the same vigour and determination with which he had conducted his previous actions. He would go to the fountain-head of Christianity, as taught him by Wilfrid. If absolution on this earth could be only obtained effectually from the successor of St. Peter, to that successor he would go. And not only for absolution, but for baptism; no meaner ecclesiastic—not Wilfrid himself—should baptise him; so clearly had he understood Wilfrid to say that the successor of St. Peter was the head of the Church, that he resolved that a king ought to be baptised by no lower prelate. Accordingly, the outlaw chief, the successful warrior, the noble king of Wessex, laid aside his arms, surrendered his throne to his kinsman Ine, and went in the lowly garb of a pilgrim to visit the mighty Rome. There he was christened by the name of Peter, and there he died, at the early age of thirty, willingly and joyfully exchanging an earthly for an heavenly crown.
Of Wulfstan and Ceolwulf there is not much more to be told. Ceolwulf recovered slowly, but never was the same vigorous old man as before. He used to listen to Malachi, in whom he took a great interest and whom he looked upon as a very remarkable man, and he seemed to understand the beauty of Christianity as the simple monk explained it to him; but since he grew more and more taciturn, as he grew older, it was difficult to know what he really thought. However, as almost the last words he spoke before his death were “about my Master’s business,” Malachi thought he had been musing over the words of the Holy Child, “Wist ye not that I must be about My Father’s business.” The old man was buried, as he had requested, by the side of Athelhune on the hill above the homestead.
Wulfstan completely recovered his health; he grew up a brave, simple-minded, noble boy, full of fun, and rejoicing in life. He helped his father on his estates, and eventually succeeded him as chief eorldoman of the island, which from this time, 709, until the reign of the last Saxon king, enjoyed peace and prosperity. Wulfstan died full of years and honour, a noble example of a Christian magistrate living among his own people, and exhibiting a bright pattern of kindness, firmness, and single-hearted devotion to duty.
Notes
1 The Bishop of the Goths, Ulphilas, entirely omitted translating the Book of Kings into the Gothic Bible, for he said: “The fierce and warlike spirit of his children required no spur in the matter of war.”