Chapter IV The Surprise
The arrival of Cædwalla put an end to the combat, to the great joy of Wulfstan, who ran up to Ceolwulf with eager congratulations.
“I knew that fellow couldn’t do thee any harm, Biggun; he didn’t know thee as well as I do, or he wouldn’t have dared to stand up to thee; but I am glad thou gavest it him as thou didst.”
“Aye, Wulf, they will respect us all the more after this. I thought I should give him a good trouncing,” said Ceolwulf complacently.
“Why, whom have we here?” cried Cædwalla, now for the first time seeing Ceolwulf and Wulfstan. “Why, it’s the old greybeard I met this morning, and the stout little son of Ælfhere! And what art thou doing here?”
The whole of the circumstances were quickly narrated to him, and, patting Wulfstan on the head, he told him he should make him one of his Huscarles, or body-guard, which delighted the boy much. He reproved Beornwulf for being so quarrelsome, and advised old Ceolwulf not to call people “nithings” again, or worse would come of it. As it had turned out he had drawn Beornwulf’s blood first, and therefore, according to the laws of the Holmgang, or duel, Beornwulf ought to pay the fine of the conquered; but, considering how great a provocation Ceolwulf had given, he should decide that the two were now quits, and there the matter had better end. “And now, my men, we must be up and doing. I have learnt that the greater part of Edilwalch’s men have gone with the two eorldomen to Kent, and the king is spending the night at Cissanceaster; we are now about six miles off, and it will take us till near midnight to get there and arrange our plans. Beornwulf, as thou art wounded, thou hadst best take this boy back to his brother at Boseham, and take care of him until I come. Bid the monks treat him well, or, by Freja, I will skin the shavelings; but they are good men,” he added, “and will do that without my bidding. And as to thee, old man, thou hadst best take Beornwulf’s place, and make good the damage thou hast done. And now, men, fall in. Athelhune, you will take command of the rear, I will lead the advance, and do thou, old man, take Beornwulf’s arms and give him thine to take back to Boseham; after to-night I trust thou wilt have some of thine own, or else that there will be no want of any. Remember all of ye that in worsting Edilwalch we are winning a victory for Wessex, and each victory for Wessex is a step towards my rightful crown. Ye have feasted on the flesh of the wild boar which Woden has put before ye as an omen of victory; remember the sagas, and how he who dies in battle will feast for ever on Sæhrimnir the Eternal, and quaff mead from the never-dying Heidrun, and shall for ever and for ever hack his enemies in pieces. Who would not rather go there than live here? But to obtain honour there we must kill our enemies here, and the more we kill, the greater our joy hereafter. Up, men, and earn an undying name!”
Excited by this speech, and eager for the fray, each warrior clashed his axe against his shield, and the wild din caused the birds, that were going to roost, to fly screaming out of the branches, and scared the beasts of the forest in their distant lair.
“See, the wild ravens there,
Woden’s wild birds of air,
Call us to Nastrond’s fare,
Call us to battle!”
shouted a warrior, whose eyes glowed with the joy of approaching fight.
“Hark to the wolves’ wild cry,
Baying towards the sky,
Knowing the prey is nigh,
Hearing death’s rattle!”
cried another answering, tossing his battle-axe high in the air, and catching it again; for every warrior who wished to be distinguished affected a talent for verse, and all leaders who desired fame surrounded themselves with “Skalds,” or gleemen, as they were called, who should proclaim their doughty deeds.
Wulfstan longed to go with the expedition, but Cædwalla would not hear of it, and he was sent off with Beornwulf, both sulky at their dismissal, but Beornwulf especially enraged, and vowing vengeance on Ceolwulf when he got the chance.
“Never mind, Beorney, thou canst practice fighting with the monks, they won’t hurt thee,” shouted some of the young men.
“And thou canst throw stones at the seals, they won’t run away,” called another, as they went off laughing; while Beornwulf, grinding his teeth with rage, and having no retort ready, disappeared with Wulfstan in the direction of Boseham.
The others directed their march through the forest towards Cissanceaster, proceeding at a rapid pace; all noise had now ceased, and each man settled down to his step with the air of men accustomed to long expeditions, and who all knew their business thoroughly. Ceolwulf wished much his master Ælfhere had had a few dozen men like these the night before, and he hoped if he could only induce Cædwalla to take up the cause of his young lords, that they might recover their lands and revenge themselves on Arwald; he had seen therefore Wulfstan go off with Beornwulf less reluctantly than he otherwise would have done.
The sun had set, and the mists of the forest rendered it a difficult matter to see their way, but Cædwalla led them on without pausing or appearing to be once in doubt as to which way to go. After they had gone on in almost absolute silence for about a couple of miles they came to a circular clearing in the forest; in the centre of this clearing was a large stone, and Cædwalla went up to it, and, raising his battle-axe aloft, chanted the following verses:—
“To Woden, great god, I vow
Victims to slay enow
If he to us allow
Victory to-night.
Here in the forest glade,
Under the oaks’ dark shade,
On my keen axe’s blade,
Oaths do I plight.
By the last earthly pang
Men felt as high priests sang
When the wild death-cry rang
Speeding souls’ flight.
Grant us to win the fight!
Grant us death’s fires to light!
Favour the cause of right!
Woden, all bright!”
Again the dull clang of the axes striking against the shields gave token of the warriors’ assent, and, once more putting himself at the head of his men, Cædwalla pursued his march in silence. That grim stone in the solemn forest ring had seen many a horrid sacrifice, and had been stained with the blood of many victims long before the Saxons or the Romans came into the Island; and if any places could be haunted that surely ought to have been, considering the horrors that had taken place there, the cruel and detestable custom of offering human sacrifices being common to Teuton and Celt alike.
And now it was clear, from the extreme care the advance guard took not to make any noise, that they were approaching the object of their expedition. After a few minutes more the column halted, and Cædwalla directed the band to divide into four equal companies. He then ordered three of them to march round the dim cluster of houses, or cottages rather, which were scarcely distinguishable in a clearing of the forest, which had been getting less dense for the last mile or two. Cædwalla ordered Athelhune to take command of the company that had farthest to go, and bid them raise the battle-cry, and clash their axes and shields together as soon as they were ready for the attack. At this signal all were to fall on and slay whom they met. Cædwalla reserved for himself the right of attacking Edilwalch, and directed that such prisoners as should be taken should be brought to the altar of sacrifice, and there be offered up to Woden and the shades of their ancestors.
Silently in the darkness of the night the men disappeared, and Cædwalla led his party cautiously and in single file closer to the village. As they got nearer Ceolwulf could make out that the work before them was rather more formidable than a mere night surprise on a cluster of undefended houses. Before him was a wall about twelve feet high and a ditch outside the wall. Supposing none were on the wall to oppose them it would not be a serious obstacle to active and resolute men; but should there be a determined foe behind it, the assault would be a serious affair. Cædwalla ordered a young man to creep as close up to the wall as he could, and then, if all were favourable, to climb up it and reconnoitre the place. Ceolwulf could see that there was a gate a little further to the right of where they were, but he concluded that this would probably be guarded, and that was why Cædwalla had not selected it for attack.
Stealthily the figure descended the bank of the ditch; they could just hear the sloshing sound made by his feet as he got into the mud, then a slight splashing, sounding to those listening very loud, then silence, which was suddenly broken by a wild, unearthly cry, causing them all to start, and they could hear the young man slip down, and then the splashing sounds were repeated, and soon after he appeared.
“Well, what was it?” impatiently asked Cædwalla.
“A witch!” said the young man, shuddering. “I saw her eyes of fire glaring at me, and I heard her spit—listen!”
Again the strange cry rang out, ending in a kind of sputtering snarl.
“Why, man, it’s only a cat! Art afraid of a cat? Here, Eadwin, I can trust to thee; go thou and see if any one is on the other side.”
But these young men, all as brave as lions in fight, firmly believed in supernatural powers, and nothing terrified them more than the idea of witches and demons; and when they heard that their comrade had seen a great witch, all covered with fur and a long streaming broomstick wrapped round with bristles flourishing above her head, and glaring, fiery eyes staring right at him and uttering fearful cries, which they had all heard, not one was daring enough to go.
“Out upon ye, men, for a pack of spiritless hinds!” cried Cædwalla, disdainfully. “I shall have to go myself; but, mind, as soon as ye hear me call, or the signal from Athelhune is given, up with ye, witches or no witches, or ye will go to Nifleheim quicker than ye like.”
He was just starting to go on the perilous work when he felt his arm held, and the voice of Ceolwulf arrested him.
“Atheling, I will go, I have no fear of witches; I have a wolf’s snout hung round my neck, and no witch can hurt me, be her charms never so powerful.”
“Well, old man, thou teachest these boys a lesson; a stranger and an old man, thou darest what my carles, young and bound to me by every tie, dare not. When I am king of Wessex, as I shall be, I will not forget thee. Here’s my hand on it.”
Cautiously old Ceolwulf went down into the ditch, and again the sounds of his progress seemed dangerously loud, then silence, broken by the wild din of shouting and the clash of arms which suddenly arose.
“There it is,” cried Cædwalla, rushing forward, followed by the men behind him. “Strike for the golden dragon! Strike for the house of Cerdic! The Valkyrior claim their own! Tyr scents the battle.” Shouting wildly such war cries, the band plunged into the ditch, splashed through it, and dashed at the wall. Old Ceolwulf had by this time got to the top, and, kneeling down, he helped Cædwalla up. The two sprang boldly down into the open space inside scattering a party of cats1 that rushed screaming, with their tails in the air, towards the nearest houses. Cædwalla instantly seized the omen, and shouted:
“See how the witches fly,
Scared by our battle-cry,
Follow to do or die,
Follow Cædwalla!”
And now an answering cry arose within the town. Lights flashed here and there, and all seemed confusion. Shouts of defiance could be heard on all sides, showing that the attack was completely successful as far as simultaneousness of action went. The difficulty was to avoid attacking each other. Cædwalla made for the nearest house, and, smashing in the door with his axe, cut down the first man that came to meet him. The terrified women and children rushed out by a back door, and Cædwalla instantly called for some straw to be brought him, and, lighting it from the fire that was burning on the hearth, soon set the cottage in a blaze. The flames spread from one building to another, and the affrighted inhabitants rushed out into the street screaming in terror. The followers of Cædwalla cut down all the men that offered any resistance, but pursued their way to the palace of the king. Edilwalch was now aware of what was happening, and having hastily armed himself, accompanied by a few devoted adherents, rushed out to meet his assailants.
The other bands had not yet made their appearance, and the position of Cædwalla was rather critical. His little party only numbered fourteen in all, and although the flames of the burning houses, which were all made of wood and thatched, allowed him to see where to direct his attack, yet they at the same time served to expose the fewness of his numbers. Edilwalch was no coward. He was fully alive to the importance of crushing this handful of men before the others, whose battle-cries could be heard drawing nearer and nearer, could join their companions; and, leaving a few men to guard the palace—which was no more than a rather larger house than the other cottages, and thatched like them—he shouted his battle-cry, and attacked Cædwalla’s party. Nominally Edilwalch was a Christian, having been christened at the request of Wulfhere of Mercia, and had received the Isle of Wight as a reward for his conversion. His battle-cry, therefore, should have been different to that of Cædwalla, but in his excitement he forgot his new faith, and invoked the Teutonic deities to his aid.
The first to encounter Edilwalch was Eadwine, who was anxious to show his leader that if he was afraid of witches he was not afraid of men. But the voice of Cædwalla shouted to him to remember his orders, and Eadwine turned aside to attack a stout eorldoman who fought by the side of Edilwalch. Down came his axe at the headpiece of his foe, who parried it with his shield, and struck furiously back at Eadwine. The blow was given with such good will that it shore away his shield above the elbow, and broke the arm which held it. Plying his axe vigorously with his right arm, Eadwine gave the eorldoman a cut across the cheek, but directly afterwards was knocked down by a terrific blow on his helmet. Striding across his fallen antagonist, the eorldoman cut at Cædwalla, who was engaged in vigorous fight with Edilwalch, already wounded and giving ground; but Ceolwulf caught the blow with his axe, shivering the handle and sending the splinters flying, one of which pierced the eorldoman in the eye, and caused him to stagger back with the pain. But he was not destined to feel pain long, for another crashing blow of Ceolwulf’s axe avenged the fall of Eadwine, and tumbled the South Saxon to the ground. The fighting had now become general, and the din of weapon striking weapon, the crash of falling buildings, the crackling of the flames as they leaped high in air, the fierce shouts of the combatants or the deep groans of the dying, made a wild and fearful uproar that produced a mad intoxication in the fighting mass. High above all rang the stentorian voice of Cædwalla as he plied his blows, now right, now left, at the devoted body-guard of Edilwalch, who was badly wounded, and was being led off to his palace. The small party who fought round Cædwalla, inspirited by his wild chant and furious blows, pressed on after the retreating king, and each of their axes seemed endowed with ceaseless life. Several had fallen on both sides, and fearful were the wounds made by these two-edged axes; but now the affrighted townspeople—if the inhabitants of Cissanceaster deserved the name at that time—seeing the small numbers of their assailants, came to the assistance of their king, whom they did not much love, but in whose success they saw at least safety for themselves and their families. Cædwalla—who, in the midst of all this wild turmoil and in spite of his personal part in the fight, never lost the presence of mind essential to a leader—saw that unless he slew Edilwalch before the people rallied, he would lose the whole object of the expedition, pressed harder and harder upon those who opposed him, till at last, with a spring, he dashed upon the group who were leading the king away. With hair streaming behind him, his helmet battered, but the heron’s plume still erect, his eyes gleaming with wild excitement, his armour stained with blood, and his shield in pieces, Cædwalla rushed upon the king. One flash, one groan, and his competitor was no more. Right through the axe of the faithful guard who tried to parry the blow the triumphant weapon of Cædwalla sank into the brain of Edilwalch, and the king of the South Saxons was numbered with Ælla, Cissa and his ancestors. But not unavenged shall he die, for wildly the henchmen turn upon the slayer, and three axes gleam in the air together. Ill would it have fared with the son of Ceawlin had not watchful eyes and stout hands been by: axe meets axe, and blow answers blow, and the death of all the immediate supporters of Edilwalch assures Cædwalla the victory.
But where are the other bands? Where is Athelhune? Where are the house-carles? Where is Cædwalla’s brother Wulf?
“Quick, Cædwalla, retreat while yet there is time,” shouted Ceolwulf, who saw the ominously increasing crowds of hostile faces pressing up behind them. Their own numbers were very few. Three were lying on the ground either dead or dying; two more were so desperately wounded that they could hardly offer any resistance, and reeled as they stood round Cædwalla, and only two or three had escaped without a wound.
But the chieftain’s eye instantly took in the situation, and without a moment’s hesitation he ordered all to advance on the palace. He could hear the cry of Athelhune, and at last saw by a movement among the crowd that the other bands were coming up.
With a rush, therefore, they sprang towards the palace gate. The defenders were few, for in the excitement of the fight round their king the men had disregarded Edilwalch’s orders, and had come out to join the fray.
Daunted by the fierce onslaught, they fled into the interior, and Cædwalla’s men rushed in, closely followed by a yelling mass of infuriated townspeople. But two of Cædwalla’s men kept these at bay until the doors were shut.
The position now was somewhat curious. Edilwalch was killed, and Cædwalla occupied his palace—at least some part of it—and was himself besieged in his enemy’s stronghold; but in the rear of his assailants he could hear his own men pressing up, and he had little doubt of the victory in the end.
But now Cædwalla was to feel the effects of that element he had invoked to his own aid. A stifling smoke rolling through the rooms where he and his party had taken refuge told them that the house was on fire, and the shrieks of terrified women behind them showed how far it had spread, and how useless it was to seek for shelter by going further into the house.
“There is no help for it, my men—our safety lies in our own hands. With them let us hew us out a path; we cannot fight with fire. I hear the shout of Wulf, my brother, and Athelhune is pressing on. Let us all make ready; the moment I give the word and the door is opened, rush out upon the yelling curs. Are ye all ready? Throw open the gate. Follow me!” and with a fierce shout of fury the eight desperate men sprang upon the mob.
Then once more began the wild cut and thrust. Scarcely one of Cædwalla’s men had any of his shield left. Regardless of their own safety, they now only thought of selling their lives as dearly as possible, and each man hewed and stabbed, and struggled, and pushed in the seething, furious crowd. Woe to him who fell! there was no hope of his ever rising again.
All the while the shout of Athelhune’s men grew nearer, and the flames of the burning palace waxed hotter and hotter, and the whole place and scene resembled Pandemonium let loose. Shrieking women, with dishevelled hair, stood on the outskirts of the mass, and as they saw their friends fall, seized them by their limbs, and tried to pull them out of the fray. But nearer and nearer came Cædwalla’s bands, until, with a wild rush and shout of triumph, they burst through the men who were opposing them, and, cutting through the crowd that thronged about their chieftain, rescued him from his perilous position.
They had not come a moment too soon. Cædwalla’s axe was broken; he had received a cut across his arm; not a bit of his shield was left but a small piece to which the thong was attached that served to strap it on: his heron crest was shorn off; and his right arm was stiff and weary with the fight. Ceolwulf was wounded, and not a man but had some hurt, and the heat from the burning palace behind was growing unendurable. At Cædwalla’s feet lay the dead body of Edilwalch, and around lay heaped up the bodies of the slain. Truly, the feast for the Valkyrior maidens was enough.
When the men of Cissanceaster saw the companies of Cædwalla now all united, they drew off, and stood sullenly looking at the carnage they had made, or else went off to put out the fires which were blazing around them, or to see that no more houses took fire.
Then Cædwalla, seeing that none had any longer a mind for the fight, stepped forward, and, addressing the inhabitants, said:
“Men of Cissanceaster, and all good South Saxon folk, I came not to war with ye. Ye are all my kith and kin, and I would rule ye as well as my ancestors did; but Edilwalch, who lies here dead, revolted, as ye all know, from the kindly sway of my kinsmen, and joined the enemies of my race and yours, the tyrannous Mercians. Would ye prefer Mercia to Wessex? the wicked Penda2 and his son, with their many deeds of bloodshed, to the wise Ceawlin and his noble descendants? If ye prefer war, here am I, and my faithful followers; our arms are not yet weary, nor is our soul yet low; let us decide the issue now. If any claim the crown for Edilwalch or his descendants, either I will fight any man single-handed, or we will choose man for man and fight it out, and Woden shall choose the victor. Shall we be friends or foes?”
A low murmur of applause greeted this speech, and Cædwalla went on:
“If, my friends, ye prefer peace, and think enough hail has fallen to Woden, and the Valkyrior should rest appeased, let us then ratify our friendship and our rule by feasting. Bring us here such food as ye have, and we will sup together, and drink to the brave slain who are now entering Valhalla.”
The leading men who were left of the followers of Edilwalch talked apart, and the rest of the people went off to look after their property. Cædwalla seeing no one inclined to answer him, again spoke.
“Come, my men, let us be friends, and bring us what we want, that all may end in peace and pleasure. We care not to await much longer.”
One of the oldest of the South Saxons stepped forward, and said that if Cædwalla would give Edilwalch a funeral becoming his rank, and would treat all men as well as Edilwalch had done, they would accept him for their king.
Cædwalla having accepted these conditions all hostilities were laid aside, the new king’s followers helped to put the fires out, and, the bodies being carried away and torches brought, preparations were made for feasting the conquerors. The carcasses of some oxen were found ready roasted in the burnt stalls, and beer and milk were brought out from the stores belonging to Edilwalch, and which now belonged to his conqueror; all sat down on rough benches quickly improvised from the ruins of some of the cottages, and tables were made in the same rough-and-ready way.
Soon all was laughter and merriment: gaily the jugs of ale went round, and the half-roasted flesh was devoured with avidity. Coarse jest and practical joke accompanied the feast, and when all were satisfied the warriors slept round the remains of the repast. Only Cædwalla and his two lieutenants, Wulf and Athelhune, retired to a room in the half-burnt palace; a few of the more responsible of their soldiers were left to guard the door in turns, with orders to rouse every one if any cause for alarm should arise.
Notes
1 These domestic cats were most probably the descendants of some which had accompanied the Roman colonists. The native wild cat is untamable.
2 Penda died in the flight from Winwidfield A.D. 655, but the memory of his power and ruthlessness remained long after him.