Chapter III “Under the Greenwood Tree.”
Ceolwulf and Wulfstan, after leaving the hut of the kind monks, went first to look to the boat, and moored her securely. Then they walked into the thick wood, which was immediately behind the little settlement, and which stretched without intermission right up to the great Andredesweald. There were occasional clearings here and there, especially to the east of Boseham towards Cissanceaster, but owing to the dreadful drought and consequent famine, and demoralisation of the inhabitants resulting from it, most of these clearings had relapsed into a wilderness again.
They had not gone far when Biggun remarked that they had better take a look at the sun, and see how they were to find their way back again; and while he was taking a careful look round Wulfstan noticed a rustling noise amongst the dry leaves on his right, and directly afterwards an old pig and several little ones came grunting through the wood followed by a miserable, unhealthy-looking boy, who instantly stopped on seeing the two strangers, and stared at them with suspicion.
“Whose pigs are those?” said Biggun.
The young swineherd only stared at him the more, and especially eyed Wulfstan with curiosity, as though such a healthy-looking boy were quite surprising. At last, on the question being repeated two or three times, he shook his head to intimate that he did not understand.
“Come along, Wulf, we’ve no time to lose; let us go down this glade and keep thy spear ready. That boy is a Weala.”
They now reached a long and natural glade in the forest, and as they got farther away from the sea the trees grew larger and straighter, and the view under the branches was more extended, being only interrupted by clumps of brushwood here and there. There was no sign of any road or track whatever, only the vast forest stretched in endless solitude to right and left, and as far ahead as the eye could see.
Wulfstan was delighted with the size of the forest, and eagerly looked on each side for the chance of some game appearing. They had now walked about four miles from Boseham, and were going in a north-westerly direction, when a gleam through the trees ahead told them they were approaching some water, and in a few minutes more they had reached a long winding pool, or lake, from which a large heron rose slowly as they came out of the forest.
“Biggun, look! Take a shot at that heron! I can swim for him if he does drop in the water.”
“He’s too far off, Wulf; we must not waste our arrows. Wait till we get a sure mark; we shan’t have to wait long. If this is salt water, animals won’t come to drink, but I doubt not we shall find a fresh brook running into it farther on; and if we find the marks where the beasts come down to water, we can hide in the bushes, as we used to do at home, and then we shan’t miss.”
They had hardly gone three steps more when a large hare darted out of a thicket by the side of the water and ran into the wood; but Biggun was too quick for him, carefully watching as he passed behind a tree, the instant he appeared on the other side of it, an arrow whizzed from his bow and rolled the hare over on the ground.
“By Woden, Biggun, that was a good shot; thou timedst it well,” cried Wulf admiringly, as he ran up to the hare and pulled the arrow out, carefully wiping the shaft and point, and smoothing the feathers; then taking the animal up by his hind legs he hit it behind the neck to kill it, for it was not quite dead, then he ran back to Biggun and gave him his arrow again.
“Be still, my son, and hurry not, if thou wouldst hit anything,” said Biggun complacently, as he put the arrow back in the quiver. They then went on again, Wulf carrying the hare and looking with sharp glances all round him. Presently they came to a very marshy place and had to leave the side of the water and enter the forest again. Skirting the marsh they came to a kind of track that led them to a deep pool which was trodden all round and was evidently a place where animals came down to water.
“We ought to come here to-night, Wulf, but we ought to come in a large gang, for here be marks we don’t see in our island,” said Biggun, stooping down and examining the “spoor” of the animals that frequented this place to quench their thirst.
“Hark, Biggun, there is something coming!” whispered Wulfstan, as a crackling of twigs was heard a little way off.
“Quick, Wulf, climb up that tree there; up with thee!” cried Biggun, as he hurried the boy hastily to a wide-spreading oak, whose large and low branching limbs stretched over the pool. In an instant Wulfstan was ensconced among the branches, and Biggun had handed him up his spear, and was just pulling himself up after him, when, with a crash and a squeal, a huge wild boar rushed through the brushwood, and charged at poor Biggun, who, old and stiff, was with difficulty getting up into the first low fork of the old tree.
“Oh, Biggun, get thy legs out of the way!” shrieked Wulfstan in terror, and without pausing a moment he hurled the boar spear he held right at the advancing beast. He threw it with such good aim that it struck the animal in the shoulder, and although it did not stop his charge, by reason of the wound it caused, it yet pulled the beast up by catching in one of the overhanging boughs, and the shaft being made of stout ash did not break, but widened the wound in the shoulder, and caused the poor animal to squeal aloud with pain. Biggun had now got his legs over the first branch, and, taking steady aim, he shot an arrow into the animal’s eye. Such was the vitality and courage of the brute that, although it had the spear still sticking in its shoulder, and was pierced in one eye with an arrow, it yet charged home to the trunk of the tree, and buried its tusks in the bark. Then it stood looking round for its enemy, and grunting and squealing fiercely. Biggun drew another arrow up to its head, and the shaft went home to the boar’s heart, and he fell over dead.
“Well, I think we have got enough game now, Wulf, for the monks and ourselves, and we had better make the best of our way home, and carry as much as we can of this beast with us,” said Biggun, scrambling out of the tree again, followed by Wulfstan, who was very delighted at the death of the big animal, and greatly admired his formidable tusks and the thick crest of bristles which grew down his strong neck and shoulders.
Ceolwulf proceeded to cut up the body with his long hunting knife, and slinging the two hind quarters over his shoulders, and replacing the arrows in the quiver, they hung the rest of the quartered boar on the lowest bough of the oak that had saved their lives, and started to make their way home again.
Suddenly Ceolwulf pulled his young companion behind a tree, and then, before Wulf could ask him the reason, he had whispered to him to be perfectly still, as he saw some men a little way ahead of them. Very cautiously Biggun and Wulf crouched down, and crawled to the cover of some bushes that were near, and from this shelter they saw several men coming in their direction. They were all armed, and looked a strong and formidable body of men. There were about thirty or forty in all, and most wore iron helmets, and two or three had hawberks, or jackets of mail, like that which the young man wore whom they had met in the morning. Some carried stout spears, and others large clubs, with a heavy ball of metal attached by a short piece of chain to the head of the club, and studded with spikes. Most had shields of a round shape, and nearly all carried, in addition to the arms already mentioned, long swords and battle axes. The men who had not got jackets of mail wore leathern tunics, which appeared to be of double thickness over the chest and shoulders, and which were no doubt sufficiently tough to ward off a sword cut or spear thrust. Many of the men appeared to be quite young: none of them seemed over forty, and the youngest might have been between eighteen and twenty. They were a handsome and picturesque-looking set of men, with their bushy hair flowing out from under their helmets, their bronzed faces and martial appearance. Some wore close-cut beards, and some were shaved, with the exception of the “knightly fringe that clothed the upper lip,” and Ceolwulf knew that they must be the body-guard of some powerful Thane or Eorldoman, and he crouched all the closer, for the times were very perilous. They did not seem to be in any hurry, for they sauntered along, talking among themselves, and appearing to be under no leadership. Suddenly one of them uttered a cry, and walked hastily to the tree where the remains of the wild boar were hanging, fresh and bleeding from the knife of Ceolwulf.
“Ah, they will track us by the drops of blood from the joints I have over my shoulders!” said Biggun. “Well, I must even drop them here, and perchance they won’t find them,” he added, with a sigh, as he unstrung the quarters, and hung them on a bough above him. He then took Wulfstan by the hand, and pulled him into the thickest of the bushes, and crouched down again. They could hear the men talking about the boar, and laughing at the unexpected piece of good luck they had fallen in with.
“This will just do,” said one. “I was getting very hungry, and here we are where he told us to wait for him. Let us make a fire and roast some of these joints.”
“That we will,” cried another. “Here’s water to drink and flesh to eat. What more do we want? Why the heroes in Valhalla can’t have much more! This boar, I warrant, is every bit as good as Sæhrimnir1 the everlasting, and we can do for once without mead.”
“Aye, and we can cut our enemies to pieces after our dinner just as well as before; so waste no more time, but get some sticks and make a fire,” rejoined a third.
“Well, thou canst begin making afire,” said the man who had first seen the pieces of boar’s flesh. “I shall follow this trail of blood, and see where they are who have killed the boar. They can’t be far off, or the track wouldn’t be so fresh, and they can’t be many, or they wouldn’t let us take their game so easily. But, after all, there’s no knowing; these South Saxons, since the plague, have lost all heart.”
Hearing these words, several others began to follow on the trail, and it was not long before they came to the bushes, where Ceolwulf and Wulfstan lay hid. A loud shout soon told that they had found the rest of the animal, and then they were apparently baffled. But not for long, for a keen-eyed man saw where a twig had recently been broken off, and then another where dead leaves had been trodden on and the damp side turned up, and in another moment Biggun and Wulfstan rose to their feet, face to face with a bronzed and powerful man peering through the bushes at them.
“Hark, here! So! so! my masters. Here’s the game come to bay!” he cried merrily, and all the others broke through the bushes to get a view. Ceolwulf saw instantly it was no use showing fight, and he and Wulfstan came out and gave themselves up.
They were led to where the others were making a fire, and all crowded round to look at the captives.
“Well, and who are ye?” said the oldest-looking man.
Biggun had no idea who these men were, and after what he had heard from Father Dicoll about Edilwalch and his friendship for Arwald, he thought it better to conceal as long as possible who he was and where he came from.
“My name is Ceolwulf.”
“Where dost come from?”
“From Boseham.”
“Why, we know every one who lives in Boseham, and we never saw thee before, so that won’t pass.”
“Nevertheless I come from Boseham.”
“Look here, old man, thou hadst better tell us at once all about thyself and the boy there, both for thy sake and his. We are not used to be trifled with, and thou art old enough to know what being made a spread eagle means.”
Ceolwulf scratched his head and looked at Wulfstan, who, boy-like, could not see what there was to hide, for if they knew every one in Boseham they must know the kind monks who had so befriended them.
“Now, old man, be quick,” said his questioner.
“Well, we come from Wihtea, over there, and have been in a good deal of trouble,” said Ceolwulf, hoping to mollify his interrogator; “and when we got to Boseham we found some queer sort of men, who gave us some bread, and we thought we would go out and get something better to eat, for there seems no heart left in those South Saxons to help themselves.”
“Thou art in the right there, my man. Since the yellow plague all spirit has gone out of them, and they care to do nothing now but die—which, after all, isn’t so bad, if thou diest with thine axe in the skull of thine enemy, but any other way is disgraceful,” from which remark it was clear that this man was a philosopher in his way, although somewhat crude in his ideas.
“And whose boy is this? He isn’t thy son, I’ll be bound. An old wooden head like thee couldn’t have a son like that,” said another man.
“Let me stand out there with my axe, and I’ll soon show thee whether my head is any more wooden than thine, thou young Weala!”
“He has called me a Weala,” cried the young man to the others. “He belongs to me to punish; let me have him out here, that I may split his old timber skull.”
“No, no,” said the older man. “We have got to have our dinner first, and, I think, as he has provided it, he ought to be asked to share it.”
“But thou hast not told us who the boy is, old man.”
“He is the son of a noble eorldoman in Wihtea.”
“What, Arwald’s son?” cried the man with eagerness.
“Now I wish I knew whether he wanted him to be his son or not,” thought Ceolwulf. Then he added, “Dost thou know Arwald, then?”
“It is not thy business to ask me questions, but to answer mine, and take care thou doest it,” said the man, sternly.
“No, he’s not Arwald’s son.”
“All the better for him, then,” muttered his interrogator.
But at this moment a most delicious smell of fragrant roast pork floated past their nostrils, and neither Biggun nor the man could avoid sniffing it admiringly.
“Well, we can ask thee these questions presently quite as well as now, and if we are not quick the others will have all the best bits. Now promise me thou wilt not attempt to escape, and I will let thee sit down and eat with us.”
Biggun was very hungry, and so was Wulfstan, and they both promised at once, and then they all sat down, while three of the youngest were told to divide the joints and distribute them to the others.
It was a picturesque scene: the blue smoke from the fire curled up among the fast falling leaves of the great forest trees; beyond, fading into grey dimness, was the forest, while the sinking sun cast its warm rays aslant the stems of the trees, and turned the red bracken to golden sprays; the men lay about in careless attitudes, their flashing weapons gleaming in the setting sun, and above all were the ruddy leaves and great limbs of the wide-spreading oaks.
Merrily the talk went on, and coarse jest and practical joke made the echoes of the forest ring, until the noise reminded the man who had questioned Ceolwulf of the errand they were upon, and which apparently demanded some measure of secrecy, for he told four of the young men who had eaten enough to go some distance off and act as scouts, and he also tried to get the others to be a little less boisterous. Wulfstan enjoyed the whole feast immensely, and had won universal applause when old Ceolwulf told how he had speared the boar, and they all vowed he should be one of them, and should live to be a hero and do great deeds, to all which Wulfstan listened complacently; but at times he thought of Ædric, and longed to take him the hare, and he would have liked the good monks to have had some of that delicious boar, for he thought he never had tasted anything so good, as he held the end of a chop in his fingers and munched the juicy flesh. This was the fourth he had eaten, and he felt that the world was much more pleasant than it had been lately.
The others were now nearly satisfied, and little of the boar remained, which, fortunately for the happiness of the party, was a full grown animal, and in very good condition. As the men leant back with dreamy faces, and meditatively gave themselves up to the joys of tranquil digestion, there came a desire for amusement, and it occurred to the younger and more mischievous among them to think of the reproach cast by Biggun on the young man he had called a “Weala,” which was regarded as an insult by the conquering Saxons.
“I say, Beornwulf, I wouldn’t be called a Weala by that old red beard,” said one, throwing a bone at the young man he addressed, which alighted on his hand just as he was putting a choice morsel into his mouth, and knocked the piece of flesh out of his hand on to the ground.
A loud and general burst of laughter greeted this practical joke, which did not add to the young man’s good humour, and he, being of a fiery disposition, and so the very fittest subject for a practical joker, rose up in a rage and hurled the bone back at his aggressor, who, being prepared for it, ducked his head, and it passed harmlessly over him.
“There, Beorney, don’t get angry. If thou wantest to fight, fight the old man there, and then, after he has thrashed thee, thou canst come and fight us. We shan’t be afraid of thee then, but thou’rt too strong a man now, and aimest too straight.”
“What is all this about, boys?” said the older man, who had been comfortably stretched on his back with Ceolwulf and Wulfstan on each side of him, placidly enjoying the pleasant reminiscences of that estimable boar. “What’s all this about? Why can’t ye enjoy the blessings the gods give ye without wanting to make a disturbance?”
“Beornwulf here wants to fight that old red beard we caught in the bushes, who called him a Weala.”
“Well, and Beornwulf called him a wooden head first, so I think they are quits.”
“Let them fight, Athelhune. We’ve nothing to amuse us, and they might just as well have a round.”
“Why, what’s the good, boys? We want all our strength for to-night’s work, and he might be here any moment. Ye see the sun is sinking fast.”
“Then they can leave off when he comes.”
Athelhune, who really did not much care one way or the other, made no answer, and this being taken as a consent, the young men, now that they had roused Beornwulf, set to work to get old Ceolwulf excited, who had gone tranquilly off to sleep.
They proceeded therefore to pitch a chop bone neatly on to his nose, and when he started up full of bewilderment at the unexpected shock, another bone, adroitly thrown, though not very hard, struck him on the mouth. Boiling with rage, old Biggun got up and glared round for his assailant.
“Here he is, old man; here’s the Weala that did it!” cried several voices, pushing Beornwulf forward.
“Thou didst, thou nithing thou? I’ll teach thee to insult a free born Wihtwara!” cried old Ceolwulf, whose blood was now thoroughly up.
“There, Beornwulf, he has called thee a nithing. Nothing but blood can wipe out that,” called out the others, delighted at the success of their stratagem.
Ceolwulf was going at once to strike the young man with his boar-spear, but two or three young men knocked up the point, and told him he must wait until they had made a ring, and he must have the same arms as his antagonist.
They proceeded, therefore, to cut wands of hazel and fix them round in a circle, leaving ample room in the middle for the two combatants, and then they explained to Ceolwulf that whosoever drew first blood or drove his opponent out of the ring was to be considered conqueror. They then gave Ceolwulf the choice of several battle-axes, and allowed him to have a helmet like Beornwulf and a shield, and then they led the two combatants into the ring.
All had now risen from their recumbent position, and were showing much interest in the approaching fray. Opinion was divided as to which of the two was likely to win. Most inclined to Beornwulf, who was younger far and likely to be much more active. The older men, however, augured well from Ceolwulf’s size and experience that victory might declare for him.
Wearing their shields on their left arms, and holding their battle-axes in their right, the two men eyed each other steadily, and in order to rouse them to greater animosity, several young men called out: “Remember, Beorney, he called thee a Weala.” “And worse than that, he called thee a nithing,” added others.
While to provoke Ceolwulf they called out: “He called thee a wooden head, and threw bones in thy face.”
Poor little Wulfstan looked on with anxious eyes. He did not much fear for Ceolwulf, in whom he had always had unbounded confidence, but the thought would occur to him that were anything to happen to their old servant what would become of himself and Ædric? He was their only friend left in the whole world now. So he thought, and looked on, angry-eyed and wistful.
And now the fight began. Beornwulf stepped up close to Ceolwulf and made a feint at his right arm, which Ceolwulf parried with his axe, and caught the next blow, aimed with all the young man’s might at his head, with his round shield. The force of the blow split the shield and exposed the arm, so that all thought the old man was wounded, but Ceolwulf at the moment that the blow descended, struck slanting at the exposed right side of his opponent, and cut through his leathern jerkin, causing a crimson stream to flow down his armour.
“A hit! a hit!” they all cried, and then, forgetting their own rules in their excitement, they called out to Beornwulf to revenge himself. But Ceolwulf parried every blow, and called out that the victory was his. He was very anxious the combat should have a speedy termination, for he did not wish to kill his opponent, foreseeing that if he did his position and that of Wulfstan would be rendered much more unpleasant, and he naturally had no wish to be killed himself. While all were excited at the contest a voice suddenly called out, “Why, men, what is all this to do? Haven’t ye work enough in hand to-night that ye must needs be splitting each other’s heads now?”
All turned round astonished, and a universal cry of “Cædwalla!” told Wulfstan that his handsome friend of the morning was among them.
Notes
1 The author has put into the mouths of the Saxons the mythological allusions of the Scandinavian sagas, thinking that probably the same tales were common to the Scandinavian and Jutland peninsula, as well as to the Saxons and Frisians.