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
But their dogs were awake, and saluted us with a vociferous barking,
and would not allow us to land until they were driven away by the oars
which our theows used with much effect upon their hides.
At last a window was thrown open above.
"Who are you who travel at this time of night?" said a voice, which
tried to be firm.
"The poor brethren of St. Benedict from Aescendune."
"Now the saints help thy lying tongue," thus irreverently he spoke,
"do holy men travel like robbers in dead of night?"
"Look, my brother, over the tree tops, and you may learn the cause of
our wanderings; dost thou not even yet see the angry glare in the
heavens? It is from Aescendune; the Danes have burned it."
"Good lack, poor Aescendune! and the people?"
"Are all safe, we trust, in body."
"God be praised!" and the host hurried down and admitted us.
His wife hasted to light a good fire, and to prepare us a breakfast;
in short, we had fallen amongst the faithful, and we met great
hospitality, for which may God repay the worthy host, Goodman Wiglaf.
We were so fatigued in mind and body that we no sooner lay down than
we fell asleep, and slept until the sun was high in the heavens.
Wiglaf watched the river jealously to see that no foe pursued; but, as
we afterwards learned, they had other things to think of.
The road which ran across the river at this spot continued southward
into Wessex, and, so far as we could learn, was free from danger, so I
determined to send my brethren to Abingdon by easy stages along its
course, while I turned back with Father Adhelm, to share the
misfortunes of my kindred and lay brethren in the woods. So we
embraced each other and parted; and we two watched, with loving
hearts, until the glades of the forest hid our brethren, dear to us in
the Lord, from our sight, dimmed as were our eyes with tears. Then we
plucked up our courage, and turned our thoughts to those others, dear
and near to us, who had taken to the woods, where it was again our
duty to seek them.
Wiglaf rowed us back in a light skiff up the stream, not without much
protest, for he feared the Danes would surely catch us, and at every
bend of the stream he crept round, as if he expected to see a fleet of
boats sweep towards us, while he kept in the middle, as if dreading an
arrow from every bush. At length we reached the immediate
neighbourhood, over which the smoke still hung like a black pall. Here
Father Adhelm and I landed, and, giving Wiglaf our blessing, bade him
depart in peace, which the good soul flatly refused to do until
assured of our safety.
So, hiding the boat behind some bushes, we crept forward together,
till, getting through the underwood, we came to the edge of the
covert.
Before us lay the fated village, one mass of deformed and blackened
ruins, from which the dark smoke ceaselessly arose, and made the air
painful to breathe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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