Part 33 (1/2)

Edmund delayed his journey into Wess.e.x until he had duly provided for the defence of the capital, and had personally examined all the defences with a warrior's eye. At length the messengers who watched the Danish fleet announced its arrival at Greenwich, and that bands of warriors, numerous as locusts, were issuing thence, and advancing upon London.

Reluctant as Edmund was to leave the city, it was evident that if he delayed another day he might indeed share the perils of the inhabitants, but would probably lose Wess.e.x, where his immediate presence was all-important. Therefore he called Alfgar, and bade him prepare at once for a journey to the west.

Their intended route led them, in the first instance, to Dorchester, where a large force from Mercia, including most of the men whom Edmund had so long disciplined himself, and who were under the temporary charge of Hermann, were to meet him. However, it was late before their final arrangements could be made, and the sun had already set when the citizens accompanied them to the Ludgate, and bade them an earnest farewell.

They were both clad in light defensive armour, such as could be worn on a rapid journey, and armed with sword and battle-axe. Their own steeds, two of the finest horses England could produce, famous for speed and bottom, awaited them at the gate. Edmund criticised their condition with a jealous eye, and then expressed approval.

”Farewell, Englishmen of the loyal and true city! Until we meet in happier times, farewell! You will know how to guard hearths and homes. Till we return to aid you, farewell!”

And, striking spurs into his steed, he and Alfgar rode across the Fleet river, and, ascending the rising ground, pursued their course along the Strand.

”We shall have a moonlight ride,” said the king. ”Look, Alfgar, 'tis nearly full.”

”My Lord, do you see those dark spots on the river near Thorney Isle?”

”Ah! I see them, and recognise the cutthroats. They are the Danes, who are bent on surrounding the city. Had I my five hundred, I would soon give some account of that detachment.”

”But now, my Lord, had we not better strike into the northern road at once, before they see us? We are but two.”

”No; I should like to see them a little closer, and then across the heath for Windsor. They must have fleet steeds that catch us.”

So they persevered until they had attained a rising ground from which they perceived the whole force, nearly a thousand strong, of whom one half had crossed the stream. But the figures of our two adventurers, outlined on the hill, were too distinct to elude their observation, and a dozen dark hors.e.m.e.n rode after them at full gallop.

”Now for a brisk ride,” said Edmund; and the two dashed wildly onward, clearing ditch or hedge until they attained the rising ground afterwards known as Hounslow Heath, still followed by their pursuers.

Here Edmund paused and looked round. The speed at which they rode had separated their pursuers, as he had expected, and one was far the foremost.

”Stand by, Alfgar,” he said; ”two to one is not fair. I thirst for the blood of this accursed Dane.”

Alfgar knew that he must not dispute the royal will, although he thought the risk of delay very perilous, with a crowd of foes upon their track. While he waited up came the Dane, powerfully mounted, swinging his heavy battle-axe. He swooped upon Edmund, who caused his horse to start aside, avoided the stroke, and then, guiding his horse by his knees, and raising his axe in both hands, cleft his antagonist to the chin before he could recover.

”Here come two more. Now, Alfgar, there is one apiece. The rest are a mile behind them. You may take the one on the light grey, I will take the rascal on the dark steed.”

Another moment and they were both engaged. Alfgar foiled his opponent's first stroke, and wounded him slightly in return. Now the battle became desperate, attack succeeding attack, and parry, parry. Meanwhile Edmund had again laid his foe prostrate in the dust, but did not interfere; such was his chivalrous spirit in what he considered an equal combat, although he cast anxious looks behind, where two or three other riders were rapidly approaching.

At last victory inclined to Alfgar's side. Parrying a tremendous stroke with his axe, he returned it with such vigour that the next moment the Dane lay quivering in the dust.

”There appear to be only three or four more. I think we might engage them. By the by, Alfgar, you missed one splendid chance through your steed not answering your guidance to the moment. But I am tired of the battle-axe, and shall use my sword for a change.

”Ah! there come half-a-dozen more round those firs. We must ride forward and give up the sport.”

Their enemies saw them and quickened their pace. They came to the spot where their countrymen lay prostrate, and the cry of revenge they raised, and the manner in which they urged their steeds forward, showed how strongly the sight appealed to their feelings.

Onward flew pursuers and pursued--onward till Windsor's height, with its castled hall, appeared in sight, and tempted them to seek refreshment for man and beast. But they dared not linger on their journey, and pa.s.sed the town without entering.

They rode all night through a most desolate country, wasted by fire and sword in all directions. Only in a few spots was there any appearance of cultivation, for who would sow when they knew not who should reap? Not one lonely country house, such as abounded in the days of Edgar the Pacific, did they see standing, although they pa.s.sed the blackened ruins of many an abode, showing where once the joys of home held sway. Here and there they came upon the relics of strife, in the shape of bodies of men and horses left to rot, and in one spot, where a ford had been defended, the rival nations had left their fallen representatives by hundreds. It must have been months before, yet no one had buried the bodies. Such people as still existed without the fortified towns had betaken themselves to the woods, or the recesses of the deep swamps and forests, as the people of Aescendune had done.

As they drew near Dorchester, they found yet more sanguinary traces of recent war, for the Thames had been the scene of constant warfare. Bensington, half burned, had partially recovered, and had renewed her fortifications; Wallingford, hard by, had never risen since the frightful Christmas of 1006.

Dorchester now rose before them. They had accomplished fifty miles of hard riding that night. They were seen, challenged, and recognised, by a patrol without the gates, and the cry, ”Long live King Edmund!” echoed from all sides. A thousand gallant Mercians, the nucleus of an army, each man fit to be a captain, awaited them there, and Edmund felt his spirits revive within him, and his hope for England; and Alfgar met Hermann with great gladness.