Ashes Seeds Of America 3 Anderson Laurie Halse

download

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-seeds-of-america-3-anderson-
laurie-halse-9305274

Explore and download more ebooks at ebookbell.com

Here are some recommended products that we believe you will be
interested in. You can click the link to download.

Ashes Ashes They All Fall Dead Diaz Lena

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-ashes-they-all-fall-dead-diaz-
lena-46252898

Ashes Of Sin And Stardust Anchorx Lindsay Murray

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-of-sin-and-stardust-anchorx-
lindsay-murray-46499564

Ashes And Amulets A Paranormal Womens Fiction Novel Midlife Magic In

Memoriam Book 3 Keira Blackwood

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-and-amulets-a-paranormal-womens-
fiction-novel-midlife-magic-in-memoriam-book-3-keira-
blackwood-48357636

Ashes Down We Go Book 2 Kyla Faye

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-down-we-go-book-2-kyla-
faye-48570814
Ashes To Glass Carmen Black

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-to-glass-carmen-black-48584498

Ashes To Ashes Art In Rome Between Humanism And Maniera Roy Eriksen

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-to-ashes-art-in-rome-between-
humanism-and-maniera-roy-eriksen-49940614

Ashes A Dark Bully Romance The Boys Of Chapel Crest Book 3 Kg Reuss

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-a-dark-bully-romance-the-boys-of-
chapel-crest-book-3-kg-reuss-50203528

Ashes To Light A Holocaust Childhood To A Life In Music Nelly Benor

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-to-light-a-holocaust-childhood-to-
a-life-in-music-nelly-benor-50222114

Ashes The Phoenix Prophecy 3 1st Cara Clare

https://ebookbell.com/product/ashes-the-phoenix-prophecy-3-1st-cara-
clare-51013920
Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
the old, in the way most likely to benefit both, and all were ready for
the final death struggle. Few words were spoken on either side,
while the placing of the logs outside went on rapidly. The thickest
trees were first rolled up and then the ends of the next set of logs
were placed on these, crosswise, with the other end on the ground;
and in this way a rough, sloping, approach was made up to the
stockade. Where one set of trees was not enough another log was
rolled up on the cross ones, which were at right angles to the
palisade, and these were wedged up so as to make them more
secure. The stockade was approached by about twenty different
sloping stages on all sides, but as they did not touch each other,
there were intervening spaces which were not open to attack, thus
the defenders were able to concentrate all their efforts on the spots
which were most threatened.
Arwald, seeing that all the preparations were now completed,
gave the signal for the assault to begin. With a shout of defiance
and anticipated victory the Wihtwaras threw themselves upon the
stages and rushed to the attack. Axes gleamed on all sides, and
crowds of men pressed close behind each other. The front ranks
tried to clamber over the palisade, and were sternly met by the
desperate defenders. Such of the enemy as tried to get over, lost
hands or arms from the quick blows of the watchful adherents of
Ælfhere, and all the horrors of previous assaults were repeated over
again with the same dreadful monotony. There was the same
desperate valour in assailing, as in defending, and victory inclined to
neither side decidedly as yet. But it was clear that the defence could
not last long. Already many of Ceolwulf's party had received terrible
wounds, although none had been killed outright; but they had
inflicted much loss on their foe, who had hitherto failed to effect an
entrance. But there was no cessation of the assault; as fast as the
front rank succumbed there were others to take their places,
pressing with furious ardour to annihilate the little band inside, for all
Arwald's followers knew of the invasion with which they were
threatened, and were keenly alive to the importance of sweeping
away these few antagonists first.
Ceolwulf looked anxiously at the sky. The sun had just set, and
the breeze came cool and keen from the north-east. Could there be
any chance of their holding out another hour? He thought not.
"Never mind," he kept saying to himself, "I have done all that could
be done, all my lords are safe; and, anyway, I should not live for
many more years. Better die now than live to be old and useless.
But," he added, savagely chopping at a sturdy Wihtwara, who was
boldly putting his leg over the stockade, "thou shalt not send me to
Nifleheim, young man," and the luckless foeman fell back with a leg
the less, to bleed to death outside the stockade; but there were
many more to take his place, and weary work it was fighting against
time, and hope, and terrible odds.
Arwald had given orders to break down the palisade that led to
the spring, and a desperate fight was taking place here. The
Wihtwaras had broken in, and were pushing back the defenders, but
the narrow way got blocked with wounded and dead, and the
assailants paused a moment to clear away the bodies which
impeded them. Ceolwulf, seeing the lull, shouted to his men to leave
the passage and pile up some logs that were inside, so as to close
the entrance, but it was too late. The enemy dashed in, and a hand-
to-hand fight took place in the narrow space inside the stockade.
Beornwulf, seeing all was over, determined not to die cooped up in
that shambles. He shouted to Ceolwulf to leap over the stockade,
and cut their way into the woods. It was a hopeless and desperate
venture, but Beornwulf had already escaped certain death once that
day, and he believed he could not die for the next twenty-four hours,
at least.[1] Behind them, inside, a fearful murder was going on;
before them was at least a chance of life, at any rate, no worse
death. Springing over the stockade, therefore, Ceolwulf and
Beornwulf, with four or five more, dropped down into the interval
between the raised stages that were crowded with the enemy
pressing up to take their part in the awful scene going on inside.
Armed and clothed like the other Wihtwaras, they were not
recognised as the very men the followers of Arwald had come to
slay, and they were able to push through the lines of assailants, who
thought they were only some of the numerous men who had got
pushed over the edge of the stages by the pressure from behind,
and were returning to take up their places on the stages again to
renew the assault, and some even jeered at them as clumsy fellows
who had had to make room for their betters, while others openly
laughed at them as cowards who were not sorry to get out of the
way of the enemy.

[1] It was a popular superstition, and is still, that if a man escaped imminent
death or had a man killed alongside of him, he could not be killed that day—vide
Prosper Mérimée, "L'en lelvement de la Redoute."

"Thou art right there, my friend," said Ceolwulf, who, being a

Wihtwara himself, ran no risk of his dialect betraying him. "But it will
want someone to bury yon men, and so I intend stopping behind."
"Dost thou, though, my shirking knave," cried Arwald, who had
taken no part in the assault himself, but waited outside to watch the
attack, and encourage, or reprimand, his men. "Do thou go back at
once, and don't let me—— Ah! By Woden, but thou art a bigger
scoundrel——"
He did not finish his sentence, for Beornwulf and Biggun made a
rush for him, overjoyed at the opportunity of revenging all their
wrongs on the chieftain himself.

CHAPTER XXI.
"LET US DIE IN HONOUR; ONCE MORE BACK AGAIN."

Arwald, seeing the determined rush made upon him by Beornwulf

and Biggun, reined in his horse, swung it round, and, striking his
heels into the animal's side, caused it to leap past the two desperate
men. As Arwald did so, he called out to the men nearest him to fall
upon the traitors, for so at first he took them to be; but, seeing the
woods before them, neither Beornwulf nor Biggun waited to have
another attempt at Arwald. The instinct of life urged them on, and
they dashed into the woods unmolested.
"There's some death the Norns are keeping for that knave," said
Ceolwulf, as soon as he and Beornwulf found themselves at a
sufficient distance to relax their speed. "He has always escaped
hitherto, but let him look out, his time has nearly come now."
"Are we going right for the shore?"
 "It's not far off, and Cædwalla ought to have reached it by now;
but, hist! who's coming this way?"
They crouched down. A few horsemen and footmen were
approaching through the wood, evidently guiding their course by the
sounds that proceeded from the stockade, where the work of death
was very nearly over. The troop now drawing near might be the
advanced guard of their deliverers. This was almost too good to be
hoped for; or it might be some of the raiders of Arwald's party;
anyway, Beornwulf and Biggun had better lie still.
As the first horseman came up he was saying to the nearest
footman who was walking by his side that they ought to make more
haste or they would get none of the booty; and, besides, the news
they had to bring was very important.
"I wish I knew what that news was," muttered Ceolwulf.
"Why, what have they got hanging down over the horses
shoulders in front of him?" said Beornwulf whose sight was keener
than his old companion's. "It's a body, I do believe, and the body of
a boy, too."
Ceolwulf peered out between the dry leaves, and the next
moment, without a second's reflection, flung himself out of the
bushes, and rushed with a wild cry of rage straight at the horseman,
oversetting the nearest footman in his rush. With one hand he
seized the bridle of the horse, and with the other he struck the rider
a tremendous blow on the arm, and before the man, taken utterly by
surprise, could strike a blow in his own defence, Ceolwulf struck him
again, and this time with a deep groan the man fell heavily from the
saddle and dropped to the ground.
 Beornwulf seeing the danger his old comrade was in rushed out
after him, and began laying about him manfully, but the odds were
against them; however, Biggun with great presence of mind jumped
into the saddle, from which he had just ousted the owner, and,
turning the horse's head, galloped back towards where they had
come from, shouting to Beornwulf to follow him. The attention of the
men was taken up in trying to stop Ceolwulf, or it would have gone
hardly with the West Saxon; as it was, he was enabled to dash back
into the wood again, and so escaped the notice of the enemy.
Ceolwulf urged his horse at the utmost to escape from his pursuers,
but the horse was heavily weighted with the double burden;
however, for the first few minutes it managed to increase the slight
start obtained by the unexpected rapidity of Ceolwulf's movements;
gradually, however, it became clear to Ceolwulf that he must be
captured, in spite all his efforts, and he did not know what to do.
The reason of this desperate onslaught was that he saw there
hanging over the horse's shoulders his young lord Wulfstan; whether
he were dead or not he could not tell, but he hoped, as they were
taking the trouble to bring him into camp, that he was still alive, and
on the wild hope of rescuing him, old Biggun had staked his life; and
now, after all, with help so near at hand, it seemed as though both
must lose their lives.
"Beornwulf," the old man shouted, "catch this horse when I get
off it, and ride like the wind towards yonder copse," but no answer
came, and Ceolwulf felt it was all over with both of them. Still he
urged on the horse, every stride was bringing them nearer safety,
but the horsemen behind were close upon him. Ceolwulf turned
round, there was only one man quite close, and he was some
distance from the others. Could not he manage to disable this man?
The Wihtwara gradually drew nearer, his axe was uplifted, the
weapon seemed over Ceolwulf's head, crash it came down, and with
it the Wihtwara rolling on the ground, the blow had missed Ceolwulf,
but what had knocked the man down? Ceolwulf had struck no blow,
he was far too intent in pressing on his horse, and for the moment
concluded the man's horse had stumbled on the rough ground; it
was not until afterwards that he learnt how he had been saved.
Without pausing a moment, Biggun rode steadily on; the fallen
horseman caused the rest of the pursuers to stop where he fell, and
one of them dismounting, went up to the man; turning the body
over, he found that one eye was knocked out, and that the man was
dead. Whether this was the result of the fall or not could not be told;
but the man remounted his horse, and they then gave up the chase
and returned to Arwald.
Meanwhile Ceolwulf continued his course towards the shore.
The evening was changing into night; as he emerged from a dense
part of the wood he suddenly came upon a brilliant blaze of light,
and knew that his orders had been carried out. Riding up to the fire
he found a crowd of boys assembled round it, and he was not long
in learning the news. Cædwalla was within a mile of the land, and
might disembark in less than half an hour. But why did not Arwald
come down to meet him? He might do so yet; in any case, Ceolwulf
could not longer delay attending to his young lord. Tenderly the
boyish figure was lifted off the horse, and gently he was laid down
by the fire. He lay quite still, only blood welled up in a deep cut on
his head, and all could see that he was desperately wounded.
 "Oh! my young master!" cried Ceolwulf, "Why could not I have
received this instead of thee? How shall I meet my lord Ælfhere? Ah!
Biggun, thou art a dolt and a dotard to have allowed him to go from
thee."
And then he enquired of the boys around how it had happened.
Several of the boys had seen it all, but could do nothing to save their
young lord; at least so they said, but Ceolwulf would not believe
them, and heaped maledictions on them for their cowardice and
want of devotion to their lord. It appeared that Wulfstan, while
running away, saw one of his companions fall, and the noble boy
knowing that he would be killed, stopped and fitted a stone to the
sling preparatory to casting it at the first man of the enemy who
should approach the disabled boy. While he was doing this and was
totally careless of his own safety, a Wihtwara on horseback, the
same whom Ceolwulf had killed, broke through the bushes behind
Wulfstan and fetching him a blow with his axe knocked him down,
and then dismounting, put him on his horse as Ceolwulf had found
him.
"If ye boys had had a quarter of your young lord's pluck ye
would never have let him be hurt, much less taken. Could none of ye
have tried to save the boy who fell, instead of letting your young
lord do it? And could none of ye have got in the way of the knave
who gave him this wound? Ah! I am ashamed of ye all! Ye are a set
of cowardly do-nothings; and what a chance ye have let slip; it
doesn't happen to a boy every day; no, nor once in a year in these
more peaceful times—it's true we have had a little more life lately—
(by which Ceolwulf meant death)—for a boy, I say, to have the good
luck to get killed for his lord, and here with this chance before ye,
not one of ye had the sense or the gratitude to take it. Ugh! get
along with ye all for a pack of skulking foxes."
The upbraidings of Ceolwulf caused many of the boys to hang
their heads, and several reproached themselves for not having got
killed instead of Wulfstan. However, there was no help for it now,
and all stood round looking at the pale and noble features of the
senseless boy. His fair hair fell back round his face in waving locks,
his eyes were shut, and the pallor of his cheeks, usually so full of
colour and health, was very ominous. Ceolwulf raised his head on his
knee and bandaged the cut as well as he could, telling the boys to
get him some salt water from the sea.
"Shall I go and find old Deva and the bald-headed man?"
suggested one of the boys.
"Ay, my son, that's the best thing thou canst do, and the sooner
thou bringest them the better, for we shall have work enough to
occupy us all soon. Which of ye knows the way?"
"I do," and "I do," resounded from all sides, and Ceolwulf chose
the sharpest-looking of the lads, and sent off three of them, telling
them to inform Malachi, or "the bald-headed one," of what had
happened, but on no account to alarm Ælfhere, the eorldoman.
Away the boys darted, and were soon lost in the darkness.
Ceolwulf continued to bathe the wound, watching anxiously for some
return of consciousness; but the heavy lids remained shut, and the
breathing seemed to grow weaker.
"Ah! Wulfstan, my dear young lord, hadst thou only stayed at
Boseham with Ædric all would have been well. To think of the fights
I have been through and my life worth nothing, and this boy, the joy
of his father, and born to be an eorl and Heretoga, if ever there was
one, to die before he is twelve years old!" and old Ceolwulf groaned
bitterly. "How beautiful the lad is!" he went on. "Surely neither
Baldur, nor Woden, nor Thor, could have looked handsomer; but
Baldur died. Ah! yes, beauty is what death loves, and so Baldur died
young."
While Ceolwulf was thus mourning over Wulfstan he forgot all
about surrounding objects, and was suddenly startled into
consciousness of this world and the present by a boy running up to
him and saying, breathlessly:
"Master Biggun, here's some boats come ashore at yonder
point, and there's a sight of people getting out."
"Why, whatever am I doing? I'm forgetting everything. Here,
one of ye boys, run down and show the people the best way up; ask
them, for some one will show thee—no, that won't do. Tell the first
man thou seest that old Ceolwulf, who fought at Cissanceaster along
with Cædwalla, is here, and wants help. Now, off with thee; what art
thou waiting for?"
"But, maybe, they mayn't be friends; how do I know they won't
hurt me?"
"By Thor's hammer but what are we coming to? These boys
daren't get killed for their lord, and now they are frightened of their
own friends! Get along with thee directly, and do what thou art told,
or it will be the worse for thee."
The boy went off not much reassured, and intending fully to
disobey Ceolwulf as soon as he got out of sight; but he had scarcely
gone three steps into the darkness when he felt his arm seized, and
a deep voice in a very different dialect to his own, but still such as
he could understand well enough, say:
 "Not so fast, youngster; tell us who they are round this fire, and
why it is lighted?"
Paralysed with terror, the boy could not answer for a moment,
but seeing the gleam of sharp steel as his captor held up a long
knife before him, he called out:
"Oh, don't kill me! I was sent by old Ceolwulf, who did
something somewhere, to find somebody—I can't remember who—
and there he is sitting by the fire; and if thou wert to kill me I
couldn't tell thee any more, indeed I couldn't, so please don't do it."
Recognizing the truth of the last statement, the man put his
knife away, and called to some men behind. These now came up,
and the boy saw a large body of tall, powerful, well-armed men,
most of them in the prime of life. Among them he noticed a
magnificent man, taller than any of the others, and with a helmet
surmounted by a golden dragon. The light of the fire flashed upon
his close-fitting shirt of mail, on his sword and battle-axe, and shone
in his bright, clear eyes.
"Did I hear the name of Ceolwulf?" he asked, eagerly. "Where is
the fine old man? Lead me at once to him, my boy; no harm shall
happen to thee if thou wilt tell the truth and do what thou art told."
The boy pointed to where Ceolwulf was sitting, hidden by the
fire being between them, and the dragon-crested warrior, closely
followed by a younger figure, hastened to greet him. The next
moment a cry of joy and grief rang out as the younger figure, in
spite of his lameness, outran the chieftain.
"Oh! Wulfy, my dear brother Wulf, to think I should find thee
like this;" and Ædric knelt down by Ceolwulf and burst into tears,
sobbing bitterly as he took his brother's hand in his.
 "What! Ceolwulf, my fine youth," said Cædwalla. "This is a bad
business; the brave little lad is not dead, is he? Let me look at him."
So saying, the kind-hearted king bent down and took the other limp
hand, while he listened for his breathing. After a minute he rose and
said, "He's not dead, but he wants attention; have ye no women
near who can look after him?"
"I have sent, my lord, for help, and it ought soon to be here,"
answered Ceolwulf, sadly.
"Well, I can't be of any use, and I won't take thee away from
the boy. While the rest of my men are coming ashore—By the way,"
broke off Cædwalla, "see that the boats are taken to a place of
safety for the night. Thou canst send some of thy people to help us
in this, canst thou not?" he added, turning to Ceolwulf.
"Our people are all slain," replied Biggun sadly.
"What! no one left? Has it gone so hardly with thee as all that?"
"There are none but women and children and feeble old men.
All our bravest youth died with Wulf the Atheling, or were killed in
cold blood by Arwald, or were slaughtered but now on yonder hill."
"Where are Athelhune, and Osborn, and Beornwulf, and the
three that came with my brother Wulf?"
"All are dead for ought I know. Athelhune perished, slain by
Arwald; Beornwulf may have escaped. Osborn and the others died
an hour or so ago, on yonder hill."
Cædwalla's handsome features had gradually assumed a fierce
expression; a wild, stern light shone in his eyes, and a tightening of
his hand over his axe told of the storm within.
"By Woden's beard," he burst forth, "by all the joys of Valhalla, I
swear to avenge their blood! Not unhonoured shall they be in the
abodes above, or wherever the soul of man goeth. Before I leave
this island, I vow to kill all of the race of Arwald that cometh in my
way, be it man or woman or sucking child; for not in fair fight were
they slain. Oh! Athelhune, my comrade, my right hand, my more
than friend, why was I not here to save thee? But I am here to
avenge thee, and right well shalt thou be avenged."
"Is this a time to talk of vengeance?" said a voice near
Cædwalla. "Rather humble thyself before the strong hand of the
Almighty, and give Him thanks that thou art yet in the land of the
living, when so many souls have gone unregenerate, unbaptised, to
their last account. Man, swear not such awful curses. There may
come a time when they will recoil on thine own head."
"Who is this that dares to rebuke Cædwalla?" said the king
haughtily.
"A poor servant of the Lord—one Malachi, of Boseham."
Ædric had turned joyfully at the voice, and felt new hope for his
brother.
"Oh! brother Malachi, come here; see what has happened to
Wulfstan."
"What! Ædric, my son; hast thou come to this sinful and blood-
guilty land? And how are Father Dicoll and brother Corman? Verily
my heart yearns for news of them."
"Oh, Malachi, I will tell thee all about them while thou art
looking at Wulfstan; but do tell me if he is alive?"
Malachi stooped down—he had brought some balsam with him,
and a few remedies—and he gently examined the wounded boy.
With a very grave face he signed to Ceolwulf to let him feel his
pulse, and then said, "Canst thou make a shelter for him here? it will
be better to keep him quite quiet if we can."
Ceolwulf nodded assent, and Cædwalla directed some of the
sails of the boats to be brought up, and a shelter was soon made.
"Deva will be here soon," said Malachi. "She has got some food
with her. We will make some strong broth for him."
Cædwalla, seeing that the boy was in good hands, called
Ceolwulf aside, and consulted on what was best to be done. After he
had heard the old man's ideas, he gave orders that all the men he
had brought with him should encamp where they were till morning,
as now the stockade was lost there was no need to risk an advance
through the thick woods in the dark. It was clearly ascertained that
the women and children and old people belonging to Ælfhere were
safe, so there was no occasion to weary the men with a march
immediately after their voyage.
All through the night Malachi, in spite of his wounded arm,
attended ceaselessly on Wulfstan. Ædric had intended keeping
awake, but the sea voyage, the excitement, and the novelty of using
his leg, had made him very sleepy, and in spite of himself he fell off
into a sound sleep. Ceolwulf had been so busy helping Cædwalla
that he had not had time to tell Ædric of his father being still alive,
and Malachi had not thought of it; in fact, the critical condition of
Wulfstan put all other ideas out of their heads. Wulfstan had opened
his eyes once, but there was no consciousness in them, and a
burning patch of red in each cheek had taken the place of the
ghastly pallor of a few hours before.
With dawn, Cædwalla was up; he had brought sufficient food
for his men for a couple of days, and therefore was not compelled to
action from necessity; and, besides, there were all the supplies of
Ælfhere's people hidden among the woods; but Cædwalla was
nevertheless burning to come to blows with Arwald, and the order
was given for all to advance directly breakfast was over. The number
of men Cædwalla had brought was over a thousand, and their
equipment and appearance left little to be desired. There had been a
difficulty in bringing over any horses, but there were five or six
brought over for Cædwalla, and his chief eorldomen, and Ceolwulf
had despatched during the night some of the boys to bring over as
many of Ælfhere's horses as they could. He himself had the horse he
had captured from the Wihtwara he had killed, when he rescued
Wulfstan the evening before.
"My old friend," said Cædwalla, when all was ready, "I must ask
thee to ride along with us, and show us the way. I know thou
wantest to be with thy young lord, but he is in careful hands, and we
cannot get on without thee yet. I promise thee rest enough after we
have established our right to rule the Wihtwaras."
Ceolwulf had not thought of being left behind, and was flattered
at this public notice of himself before so many warriors, and many of
them the chief eorldomen of Wessex. All being now ready, the
advance began. Cædwalla had far too much experience of war to be
led into any trap as Arwald had been. He sent on a powerful
advance guard under the guidance of Ceolwulf, and the keenest and
most experienced of his men were ordered to march at some little
distance on each flank. In this way, although their progress was
slow, their security against any surprise was certain. They had not
proceeded far, when the leading footmen came across the body of a
man lying on a bank. Turning him over, Ceolwulf found it was
Beornwulf, and he was delighted to find that he was only asleep
from exhaustion. He at once had him sent into the camp, and
directed that every care should be taken of him. Cædwalla was
much pleased to see his old follower again, and promised he would
not forget him.
The little army advanced to the stockade without any further
interruption. Here a dreadful sight presented itself. Arwald had
abandoned the place, evidently feeling it necessary to retire to his
own district, and call up all the fighting men of the island for the
decisive battle that must take place; for he was not the man to allow
himself to be killed without a fight. The scene inside the stockade
was awful. Accustomed as Cædwalla and his men were to fearful
sights, they had never seen so terrific a spectacle as was here,
crowded into the narrow limits of that gory enclosure. Ceolwulf
noted with grim satisfaction that many of Arwald's men had died; he
found Osborn under a pile of slain, and many of Ælfhere's old
servants had died hard.
Cædwalla made use of the ghastly spectacle to arouse his men
to fiercer ardour, and then ordered the column to advance. When
they emerged on the black and charred common, and the successful
stratagem was explained by Ceolwulf to Cædwalla, the king was
loud in his praises of the pluck, determination, and skill of the little
band of defenders, and vowed that in all his experience he had
never heard of or seen a better executed ambush. He was especially
struck with the readiness and sagacity of the boys. As they advanced
Cædwalla admired the fertility of the island, and the suitability of
their choice in retiring into Binbrygge-ea. Crossing the ford, Ceolwulf
pointed out the ruined Roman villa among the bushes, and told how
nobly Athelhune had defended it against the attack of Arwald's
people, and showed Cædwalla where the homestead was. The king
declined to visit it now, but sent on a party to find Athelhune's
remains, and have them decently laid out, with a view to burying
him, as became a West Saxon eorldoman and faithful adherent of
his.
As they advanced farther into the island, and the country
became more open, Cædwalla directed Ceolwulf to take a force
along the ridge of the downs that separated the north side of the
island from the south, while he, with one of Ælfhere's old servants to
act as guide, marched parallel to Ceolwulf, along the valley to the
south. Every precaution was taken, and strict injunctions were given
that each column was to halt if the other were attacked. Touch was
kept up between the flanking and main column by a light band of
active young men. In this way the army got as far as where Arreton
now is without coming in contact with the enemy. Here Cædwalla
gave orders that the two columns should halt, and have their mid-
day meal. He himself rode up to the top of the hill and joined
Ceolwulf, who pointed out to him, from this natural observatory, all
the objects within sight. At his feet the land sloped away towards
the north in a gradual descent to the Solent, clothed in dense oak
woods, through which meandered three narrow openings of the sea.
The one towards the north-west was the most important, and looked
a noble inlet as it lay gleaming like silver far down below,
embowered in dense oak forest. The creek more to the north-east
seemed very narrow at the entrance, but widened out into a
splendid sheet of water as it penetrated farther inland. The dense
virgin forest surrounded the glassy surface, and there was no trace
of life anywhere. Between these two creeks lay a third much smaller
one, whose existence was only faintly indicated by a dip in the
woods. Towards the east Cædwalla looked over woods, only
bounded by the sea, and beyond the sea the coast of the South
Saxons, and his own native forests and hills. The view south was
more lovely even: at his feet the wide and fertile valley spread out to
the magnificent bay, bounded on one side by the gleaming white
cliffs of Binbrygge Down, and on the other the dun-coloured
headland that rose into the noble down behind it, while toward the
south-west hill upon hill, and ridge upon ridge, culminated in the
highest hill of all—the broad-backed St. Catherine Down. The valley
at his feet was hidden, towards the west, by the continuation of the
ridge of downs upon which Cædwalla was standing, but Ceolwulf
told him it wound round and passed into another valley, or valleys,
which then turned westwards and northwards. This northern valley
became the deeply indented creek near the head of which stood the
only fortress in the island, the burg or castle of Wihtgar, known as
Wihtgaresbyryg.
"Will Arwald make a stand there, thinkest thou?" asked
Cædwalla.
"I doubt whether he will not fight in the open first. He has a
powerful following with him, and he is not one to fight behind walls
if he has any chance of crushing us in the open."
Cædwalla laughed. "He need not talk much of crushing. There
won't be much left of him or his men if once I catch them in the
open."
"Aye, no doubt thou art a doughty and powerful king, but
Arwald will have as many or more than we have, and the Wihtwaras
fight well."
"Tush, man! have I ever lost a battle yet?" said Cædwalla,
disdainfully; and then he added, "Continue thy march until we unite
in the valley in front of Wihtgaresbyryg; we may have to encamp
there to-night." So saying, the West Saxon king rode down the hill
again, and led his column along the lower ground.
The march was continued without further interruption until
about two o'clock. They turned the northern line of Downs, and saw
the ridge of the lower hills to the west, on the brow of which loomed
up the grey walls of a circular castle—the rude and unscientific
fortress of Wihtgar, built perhaps upon the foundations of a Roman
castellum, and doubtless with much of the material. Hitherto it had
been an accepted fact that whoever was lord of Wihtgaresbyryg was
lord also of the Wihtwaras and the Wihtea.
When Ceolwulf's column, descending the steep declivity of the
down now known as St. George's Down, joined Cædwalla and the
main body below, they advanced together along the lower ground
towards Wihtgaresbyryg, until they reached the ford over the
marshes, that then formed the head of the long creek now known as
the Medina. Here Cædwalla, having secured the ford and passed his
troops safely across, halted until he could find out where the enemy
were.
In the course of an hour one of his scouts brought back word
that Arwald was marching out of Wihtgaresbyryg to give him battle,
with a numerous and well-appointed force of horsemen and foot,
and would be upon them in the course of half an hour or so.
This was joyful news to Cædwalla. His eyes sparkled and his
figure became more upright, as he gave orders for his men to fall
into battle order, and prepare for the decisive contest.
"Remember Athelhune and Osborn, and the stockade on
Yavershute! Remember all your former victories—Edilwalch and the
South Saxons, and the eorldoman Berchthune. The dragon of
Wessex is spreading his wings for victory. Before night-fall, my eorls
and my free Saxons, let us plant the standard of our nation on the
tower of Wihtgar. Lands and possessions shall reward the victors,
and ye all see what a smiling and fertile land it is. Standard bearer,
advance the banner! My nobles, handle your weapons, and, O God
of Battles, whom Wilfrid serves! if victory crowns our arms, I vow to
become a servant of Thine. Let Woden and Thor fight for Arwald.
Cædwalla will fight with the help of Christ."

CHAPTER XXII.
"NOW, BY MY FAITH, LORDS, 'TWAS A GLORIOUS DAY."

Cædwalla decided not to await the enemy, but to advance at once to

meet him. He himself led the van, which was composed of his
choicest troops, and he ordered old Ceolwulf to keep with him, as a
mark of especial honour. The scout who had brought the news of
Arwald's advance acted as guide, and in a short time the two rival
forces came in sight of each other. Cædwalla saw that Arwald would
have the advantage of position if he were allowed to attack from the
higher ground where he was. He therefore ordered his men not to
march directly for the enemy, but to leave them on their left and
march as if with the intention of getting in between them and
Wihtgaresbyryg. By this manoeuvre Arwald had to descend from his
superior position, and the onus of attacking remained with him.
In those rude times there was not much attempt at marshalling
the fighting men. The leaders brought their men on to the ground
and put them as near to each other as possible, and then stout arm
and keen steel had to decide the rest. Each chieftain acted as the
bravest soldier, and his duty was to run the greatest risk.
In the present instance, there seemed a sort of tacit deferring of
the awful struggle that must take place. When Cædwalla had
obtained the equality of position he wanted, he halted, and drew up
his men in a semblance of martial array; and in this respect he had a
manifest advantage over his antagonist, for he and his men were
well known to each other. Many of the West Saxon eorls had fought
in numberless fights on the borders of Wales, and against Wulfhere
of Mercia, the son of Penda. They were, therefore, used to discipline,
and were likely to keep cool in the hottest of the fray; while Arwald's
men had never seen a set battle, and many of them had scarcely
ever fought before. But their numbers and strength seemed quite to
counterbalance this disadvantage, and Cædwalla saw at a glance the
Wihtwaras were not to be despised. Arwald had wrought his men's
courage up to a desperate pitch by telling them that Cædwalla
would deprive them of all their possessions, and, unless they won
the battle, no man's life or property was safe.
Cædwalla's eyes sparkled with excitement, but he was
otherwise very calm, and no observer would have known that he
was inwardly burning with eagerness to begin the battle, and avenge
the death of his dearest friend. He rode along in front of his men,
mounted on his white horse, cheerily saying an encouraging word
here, or passing a light jest there, and congratulating everyone on
the immediate prospect of realizing all their hopes.
The forces of Arwald had now approached to within two
hundred yards, and the combatants could see each other well. There
was nothing between them, and the battle might begin at any
moment.
Cædwalla had turned his horse's head towards the enemy, and
was quietly glancing along their line. In front of him was Arwald,
looking more brutal than ever. The cut over his eye, which he had
received from Wulfstan's sling, was swollen and inflamed, so much
so that one eye was nearly obscured. His red, bloated face, and
coarse features, combined with his huge and corpulent person,
mounted on a powerful, vicious-looking black horse, offered a
striking contrast to the refined, intellectual, determined face of
Cædwalla. bronzed with exposure, and looking a splendid, dashing
soldier, as well as prudent, clear-headed king: a perfect type of the
old Heretoga, or leader in war, chosen by the free acclamations of
his fellow tribesmen for his brilliant qualities, and not necessarily
because of any hereditary claim; the pure type of an earthly ruler, if
only such could be elected without corruption and for worthy
motives.
Cædwalla sat his horse tranquilly, and critically scanned Arwald
with a contemptuous glance that made that fat chieftain furious. He
was just going to give the order to his men to charge, when
Cædwalla raised his battle-axe, and instantly the whole of the West
Saxon army rushed straight for the Wihtwaras.
For the next few minutes there was the awful work of
destruction, hideous sounds and confused sights, axes flashing,
arms rising and falling, passionate shouts, groans, and wild cries. In
the midst of the battle could be seen the golden dragon of Wessex,
and ever and anon the clear, ringing stentorian voice of the king,
cheerily and happily cleaving a way through the struggling mass.
Such battles must have been all alike, and the monotony of the
death fight could seldom be relieved. The victory must go to the side
who had most "last," or endurance, in it; for the idea of running
away while strength remained scarcely could occur to men taught
from earliest childhood that no fate in this world or the next could
await any man worse than the fate of the coward. But sheer brutal
strength, or capacity for fighting with the largest number of wounds,
must then, as now, have been very materially modified by the moral
influences of will and determination. And in this way the personal
qualities of a leader were certain to affect his followers. The energy,
moral as well as physical, of Cædwalla, infused itself into his men,
and each man fought with a certainty of winning. Gradually the
coherent mass of striking, thrusting, wrestling humanity gave way,
and the scene became changed into groups of individual
combatants.
The battlefield was strewn with dead and dying. Cædwalla's
standard bearer was down, but the banner was still waved above the
foremost ranks, and the golden crest of Wessex was foremost in the
fight.
Arwald's army was being pushed back, no man looked to see
where, but as the foe retreated Cædwalla pressed on. The
Wihtwaras were thrust away from Wihtgaresbyryg, and were slowly
retiring towards the high hills behind them. Fighting every foot of
ground at first, they gradually hastened their retreat until at last it
became a rout.
All round deeds of "derring-do" were being performed, and
Cædwalla cheered his men on to the pursuit with words of praise
and encouragement. The king was followed by the main part of his
army, and pressed hard upon the retreating Wihtwaras.
"Unless we kill Arwald, we have done nought," shouted
Cædwalla, urging on his horse to fresh exertions.
They had now reached the foot of the down, whose ample slope
rose from the valley in wooded clumps up to a height of some five
hundred and fifty feet above them. Pursued and pursuers were alike
becoming exhausted. Arwald and the few that were left of his
personal following kept on their way up the hill. Cædwalla's horse,
which had received several severe wounds, was clearly incapable of
following much further, and the king got off, resolving to follow on
foot. Arwald still bestrode his black horse, but that powerful animal
was fast becoming distressed. Seeing that he could not escape from
his pursuers, Arwald, who had now reached a grassy knoll, drew up
and turned to look at his enemy.
Below him he could see the golden dragon and the broad
shoulders of the West Saxon king, the centre of a little band of
determined warriors, among whom the weather-beaten face of old
Ceolwulf looked hard set and enduring, like a grey lichen-covered
rock amid the saplings of the forest.
"By the golden hair of Freya," muttered Arwald "but they shall
die as well as we, if die we must. Here, my men, we will wait them;
and let each man fight as he never fought before."
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

ebookbell.com