The Dragon and the Raven; Or, The Days of King AlfredHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
The Dragon and the Raven; Or, The Days of King Alfred
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Great Britain -- History -- Alfred, 871-899 -- Fiction
They had not proceeded far when they came upon the ruins of a village.
It had been destroyed by fire, and the freshness of the charred beams
showed that it had been done but a short time before, probably not many
days. Marks of blood could be seen in the roadway, but no bodies were
visible, and Edmund supposed that, after the Danes had retired, the
survivors must have returned and buried their dead. They had not
proceeded far when the Dane pointed out to Edmund a half-naked lad who
was running with the swiftness of a deer over a slope of some little
distance.
"He is going too fast for us to catch him," Edmund said carelessly;
"and as, even if we did so, he could give us no information of any use,
for you may be sure he has not ventured near the town, we may well let
him go on in his way."
For three or four miles further they pursued their course. The country,
which was exceedingly fertile, and covered with corn-fields and
vineyards, appeared entirely deserted. Here and there a wide blackened
tract showed where, from carelessness or malice, a brand had been
thrown into the standing corn.
"The Danes are ever the same," Edmund said. "Well may they be called
the sea-wolves. It would be bad enough did they only plunder and kill
those who oppose them; but they destroy from the pure love of
destroying, and slay for the pleasure of slaying. Why are these robbers
permitted to be the scourge of Europe?"
"Why indeed?" the Genoese repeated when the interpreter had translated
Edmund's exclamation to him. "'Tis shame and disgrace that Christendom
does not unite against them. They are no more invincible now than they
were when Caesar overran their country and brought them into
subjection. What the Romans could do then would be easy for the
Christian powers to do now if they would but make common cause against
these marauders--nay, Italy alone should be able at any rate to sweep
the Mediterranean free of their pirate galleys; but Venice and Genoa
and Pisa are consumed by their own petty jealousies and quarrels, while
all our sea-coasts are ravaged by these wolves of the ocean."
"Ah! what is that?" he exclaimed, breaking off, as an arrow struck
smartly against his helmet.
They were at the moment passing through a small wood which bordered the
road on both sides. The first arrow seemed but a signal, for in an
instant a score of others flew among the party. It was well that they
carried with them the long Danish shields, which nearly covered their
whole body. As it was, several slight wounds were inflicted, and the
interpreter fell dead with an arrow in his forehead.
Immediately following the flight of arrows a crowd of peasants armed
with staves, axes, and pikes dashed out from the wood on both sides and
fell upon them, uttering shouts of "Death to the marauders!" "Kill the
sea-wolves!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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