Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune: A Tale of the Days of Saint DunstanCrake, A. D. (Augustine David)
ReligionChristian
Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune: A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan
Crake, A. D. (Augustine David)
Dunstan, Saint, 909-988 -- Juvenile fiction; Edwy, King of England, -959 -- Juvenile fiction; Historical fiction
“What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?” he said to one of his faithful
train.
“I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle.”
“Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he will
never see his father again.”
“It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my lord,”
said Leofric.
“But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatal
field.”
“Think, my lord, of Elgiva.”
“Yes, Elgiva—she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster,
Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers.”
They had, at Cynewulf’s suggestion, taken fresh horses from the
reserve, and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached
the Foss Way and rode along the route described in our former chapter,
until, reaching the frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they
left the Foss, and rode by the Roman trackway which we have previously
described, until they turned into a road which brought them deep into
Oxfordshire. Here they were in a territory which had been a debateable
land between Mercia and Wessex, where the sympathies of the people were
not strongly enlisted on either side and they were comparatively safe.
They passed Kirtlington; rested at Oxenford, then rode through
Dorchester and Bensington to Reading, whence they struck southward for
Winchester, where Edwy rested from his fatigue in the society of
Elgiva.
So ended the ill-advised raid into Mercia.
CHAPTER XIX.
EARTH TO EARTH, AND DUST TO DUST.
Although Edwy and his little troop had been successful in gaining the
main road, and in escaping into Wessex, yet few of his followers had
been so fortunate, and his broken forces were seeking safety and escape
in all directions, wanderers in a hostile country. A large number found
a refuge in the entrenched camp; but it was surrounded by the foe in
less than half-an-hour after the king’s escape, and all ingress or
egress was thenceforth impossible.
While one large body fled eastward towards the Watling Street, the
soldiers who had accompanied the king to Æscendune naturally turned
their thoughts in that direction. It was, as they had seen, capable of
a long defence—well provisioned, and already partly garrisoned; nor
could they doubt the joy with which their old companions would receive
them, either to share in the defence of the post, or to accompany them
in an honourable retreat southward.
So, not only those who survived of the fifty who had left Æscendune the
previous morning, but all whom they could persuade to join them,
actuated separately by the same considerations, made their way in small
detachments through the forest towards the hall. Redwald had thoroughly
earned the confidence of all his warriors, and they would follow him to
death or victory with equal devotion. Now, in adversity, they only
sought to put themselves once more under the rule of their talented and
daring chieftain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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