Part 14 (1/2)

”Like Eden the land at morn they find; But they leave it a desolate waste behind.”

Whenever they found a tract of country as yet unexhausted, there they settled until they had exhausted it. The wretched inhabitants, who had fled at their approach, perished with hunger, unless they had strength to crawl to the far distance, where as yet bread might be found.

It was the custom of the invaders to burn all their resting places when they left them, and to slay all captives, save such as could be held to ransom, or a few whom they detained in slavery, till they died a worse death from want and ill usage.

Thus they moved from spot to spot, until towards the middle of November they reached the coast opposite the Isle of Wight, in which unfortunate island they decided, after due consideration, to winter.

Opposite the host, across the Solent, rose the lovely and gentle hills of the ”garden of England;” but between them lay the Danish fleet, in all its grandeur, calmly floating on the water. Each of the lofty s.h.i.+ps bore the ensign of its commander; some carried at the prow the figures of lions, some of bulls, dolphins, dragons, or armed warriors, gaudily painted or even gilded; while others bore from their mast the ensign of voracious birds--the eagle, the raven--which appeared to stretch their wings as the flag expanded in the wind.

The sides of the s.h.i.+ps were also gay with bright colours, and as the warriors embarked and hung up their bright s.h.i.+elds, grander sight was never seen.

But chiefly Alfgar admired the s.h.i.+p of Sweyn, called the ”Great Dragon.” It was in the form of an enormous serpent; the sharp head formed the prow, with hissing tongue protruding forth, and the long tail tapered over the p.o.o.p.

In this s.h.i.+p Anlaf himself had his place, in deference to his descent, and Alfgar accompanied him. It may easily be imagined he would sooner have been elsewhere.

Scarcely a fis.h.i.+ng boat belonging to the English could be discerned: the Danes made a desert around them.

Eight years before, in the year 998, they had wintered on the island, and since that time had regarded it as a Danish colony. No English remained in it save in the position of slaves, and the conquerors had acc.u.mulated huge stores of spoil therein, while they drew their stores of provisions from every part of the adjacent mainland.

”Is it not a grand sight, Alfgar?” exclaimed his father. ”Are you not proud of your people, the true monarchs of the sea?”

Alfgar was for the moment inclined to sympathise; but he thought of the darker side of the picture, and was silent.

There was a higher glory far than all this, and it had left a lifelong impression on his soul.

CHAPTER X. CARISBROOKE IN THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

The fleet bore the troops of savage soldiery safely--too safely--across the waters of the Solent, to the estuary formed by the Medina, where now thousands of visitors seek health and repose, and the towers of Osborne crown the eastern eminences. A fleet may still generally be discerned in its waters, but a fleet of pleasure yachts; far different were the vessels which then sought the shelter of the lovely harbour, beautiful even then in all the adornment of nature.

There the Danes cast anchor, and the forces dispersed to their winter quarters. The king and his favourite chieftains took up their abode at Carisbrooke, situate about eight miles up the stream, but above the spot where it ceases to be navigable.

Their chosen retreat was the precincts of the old castle--old even then--for it had been once a British stronghold, commanding the route of the Phoenician tin merchants across the island, whence its name ”Caer brooke,” or the ”fort on the stream.”

The Romans in after ages saw the importance of the position, fortified it yet more strongly, and made it the chief military post of the island, which, under their protecting care, enjoyed singular peace and prosperity--civilisation flourished, arts and letters were cultivated. The beautiful coasts and inlets were crowded with villas, and invalids then, as now, sought the invigorating breezes, from all parts of the island of Britain, and even from the neighbouring province of Gaul.

The Roman power fell at last, and when the English pirates, our own ancestors, like the Danes of our story, attacked the dismembered provinces of the empire, its wealth and position on the coast made it an early object of attack--happy those who fled early. The Anglo-Saxon chronicle shall tell the story of those who remained.

”AD. 530. This year Cerdic and Cynric conquered the Isle of Wight, and slew many people at Whitgarasbyrg” (Carisbrooke).

The conquering Cerdic died four years after, and his son Cynric gave the island to his nephews, Stuf and Wihtgar. The latter died in 544, and was buried in the spot he and his had reddened with blood, within the Roman ramparts of Carisbrooke.

It is needless to say that at that early period our ancestors were heathens, and the mode of their conquest was precisely similar to that we are now describing under another heathen (with less excuse), Sweyn the son of Harold.

It was a few days after the arrival of the Danes at their quarters, and Alfgar stood on the rampart at the close of a November day; it was St. Martin's Ma.s.s, as the festival was then called. The sun was sinking with fading splendour behind the lofty downs in the west, and casting his departing beams on the river, the estuary, with the fleet, and the blue hills of Hamps.h.i.+re in the far distance.

Southward and westward the view was alike shut in by these lofty downs, and eastward the hills rose again, so as to enclose the valley, of which Carisbrooke formed the central feature.

The ramparts whereon he was standing were of Roman workmans.h.i.+p, built so solidly that they had resisted every attack of man or of time; while down below lay the ruins of a magnificent villa, once occupied by the Roman governor of the island.