Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune: A Tale of the Days of Edmund Ironside — John Shaqi
Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune: A Tale of the Days of Edmund IronsideCrake, A. D. (Augustine David)
HistoryChristian
Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune: A Tale of the Days of Edmund Ironside
Crake, A. D. (Augustine David)
Great Britain -- History -- Anglo-Saxon period, 449-1066 -- Juvenile fiction
This office is always full of heavenly comfort, but there seemed a
special meaning tonight in one verse--"A thousand shall fall beside
thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh
thee."
Yet the thousands were heavy on our hearts, and I meditated some means
of carrying tidings of their danger to our pagan neighbours; but I
knew nothing of the details of the plot, only that there was a plot,
and I knew that if I sent a brother, the Danes, in their hatred to
monks, would probably set their huge dogs at him before he could
speak, and perhaps worry him to death. Neither could any other
messenger approach their dwellings safely at night.
I tried to hope, but against reason, that we had perhaps exaggerated
the danger. Still, after the compline was over, we sat in deliberation
a long time in the hall. The novices and lay brothers, ignorant of the
peril, had retired to rest; but we, who knew the portentous state of
things around us, could not have slept had we retired. Ever and anon
we looked forth from doors and windows into the black darkness
without; but although it was near midnight, neither sight nor sound
told of aught amiss, and we were beginning to yield to fatigue, when I
ascended the tower in company with Father Adhelm, to survey the scene
for the last time. It was so windy that we could hardly stand upon the
leaded roof, and although we gazed around, nought met our eyes until
we were on the point of returning.
"Listen!" said Father Adhelm, the subprior.
It was unnecessary. Borne upon the wind, a loud noise, as of men who
shout for mastery, met our ears, followed or intermingled with cries
for help or mercy--so we fancied at least.
While we stood rooted by horror to the spot, a bright light arose,
which rapidly increased, as a conflagration well might in such a wind,
and soon the whole horizon was illuminated. I knew but one homestead
in that direction--the fortified house of Anlaf.
I thought of the poor boy, with thankfulness that we had restrained
him from returning home. He is saved, at least, thought I, as a brand
from the burning.
The other brethren joined us, and after a short consultation, we
determined to go to the scene in a body, to mitigate the rage of the
people, and save life where we could.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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