"I think that they will not do that," Edmund said, "after the taste which the Dragon has given them of her quality. At any rate I think we are safe till the storm abates."

By this time, running rapidly before the wind, the Dragon was approaching the great Roman fort, whose massive walls struck Edmund with astonishment. No one was to be seen moving about in the space inclosed by them. The sail was lowered and the vessel brought to the bank. The anchors were taken ashore and she was soon solidly moored. Then the crew leapt on to the land and ascended the bank to the great level inclosure.

The walls were, as Egbert had said, intact—and indeed, except on the side facing the river, remained almost unbroken to the present day. An hour's labour sufficed to block the gateway, where a pair of massive doors were in position, for the place had been defended by the Saxons against the Danes at their first landing on the coast. A few men were placed as sentries on the walls, and, feeling now perfectly safe from any attack on the land side, Edmund and his followers returned on board the Dragon for the night.



CHAPTER VIII: THE CRUISE OF THE DRAGON

The night passed without alarm. The gale continued to blow with fury, and until it abated Edmund had little fear that the Danes would venture upon an attack. They had indeed no reason for haste. The Saxon vessel was in their waters, and could not return so long as the storm continued to blow from the east. The next day parties of Danes were seen making their way across the swampy country from the direction of Yarmouth.

As soon, however, as these approached near enough to see the Saxons in readiness on the walls of the castle they retired at once, knowing that the place could be captured by nothing short of a prolonged and desperate siege. On the fourth day the storm abated, and the Saxons prepared to make their way seaward again. The wind still blew, but lightly, from the same quarter, and the sails would therefore be of no use. With their great oar-power they were confident that, once through the Danish flotilla, they could defy pursuit.

Accordingly they again embarked, and loosing their moorings rowed down towards Yarmouth. They had chosen a time when the tide was running in; for although this would hinder their progress it would equally impede their pursuers, while it would enable them to check their vessel in time did they find any unforeseen obstacle in their way. They entered the river and rowed along quietly until they neared the walls of the town. Here the river was at its narrowest, and they saw the Danish galleys gathered thickly in the stream.

Edmund and Egbert were on the forecastle, and presently gave the signal for the men to cease rowing.

"It is just as I expected," Egbert said; "they have formed a boom across the river of trunks of trees and beams lashed together. We cannot make our way down until that obstacle is removed. What say you Edmund?"

"I agree with you," Edmund replied.

"We had best keep along close to the right bank until within a short distance of the boom; then we must land the greater part of our men. These must march along the bank in their phalanx; the others must keep the boat moving close alongside, and from the forecastle they will be able to fire down upon the Danes and aid those on shore to drive them back and make their way to the end of the boom. They have but to cut the lashings there and the whole will swing round. But now we see the nature of the obstacle, and what is to be done, it were best to wait until the tide turns. In the first place, fewer men will be needed on board the ship, as she will advance by herself abreast of the men on shore. In the second place, when the lashing is cut the boom will then swing down the stream, will cause confusion among the boats behind it, and will open a clear space for us to make our way down."

Edmund agreed, a light anchor was dropped, and the Dragon rode quietly in the stream. Great animation was evident among the Danes, large numbers crossed the river, and a strong force gathered at either end of the boom and in boats close behind it, to prevent the Saxons from attempting to cut the lashings. There was little uneasiness on board the Dragon, the Saxons were confident now of the power of their close formation to force its way through any number of the enemy, and they would gain such assistance from the fire from the lofty forecastle that they doubted not that they should be able to drive back the Danes and destroy the boom. In an hour the tide no longer rose. They waited till it ran down with full force, then the anchor was hauled up, and the Dragon rowed to the bank.

Sixty of the fighting men headed by Egbert leapt on shore. Edmund with the remainder took his place on the forecastle. The oars next to the bank were drawn in, and some of those on the outward side manned by the sailors. Then in its usual order the phalanx moved slowly forward while the ship floated along beside them close to the bank. The Danes with loud shouts advanced to meet them, and the arrows soon began to fly thickly. Covered by the long shields of the front rank the Saxons moved forward steadily, while, as the Danes approached, the archers on the forecastle opened a destructive fire upon them.

The confidence of the Saxons was justified, for the combat was never in doubt. Although the Northmen fought bravely they were unable to withstand the steady advance of the wedge of spears, and very many fell beneath the rain of arrows from above. Steadily the wedge made its way until it reached the end of the boom. A few blows with their axes sufficed to cut the cables which fastened it in its place. As soon as this was done Edmund gave a shout, and the Saxons at once sprang on board the ship, which before the Danes could follow them was steered out into the stream.

As Egbert had foreseen, the boom as it swung round swept before it a number of the Danish boats, and imprisoned them between it and the shore. The oars were soon run out, and while the men on the forecastle continued their fire at the Danish boats, the others seizing the oars swept the Dragon along the stream. The Danes strove desperately to arrest her progress. Some tried to run alongside and board, others dashed in among the oars and impeded the work of the rowers, while from the walls of the town showers of missiles were poured down upon her. But the tide was gaining every moment in strength, and partly drifting, partly rowing, the Dragon, like a bull attacked by a pack of dogs, made her way down the river. Every effort of the Danes to board was defeated, and many of their boats sunk, and at last she made her way into the open sea. There her sails were hoisted, and she soon left her pursuers behind. Once at sea her course was again turned north, and picking up some prizes on the way she took up her station off the mouth of the Humber.

Several ships were captured as they sailed out from the river. After the spoil on board was taken out, these, instead of being burnt, as had always been the case before, were allowed to proceed on their way, since had they been destroyed the crews must either have been slain or landed. The first course was repugnant to Edmund, the second could not be adopted, because they would have carried the news to the Danes, that the Dragon was off the river and no more ships would have put to sea; and indeed, so large was the number of Danish vessels always up the Humber that a fleet could easily have been equipped and sent out, before which the Dragon must have taken flight.

One day a large sailing ship was seen coming out. The Dragon remained with lowered sail until she had passed; then started in pursuit, and speedily came up with the Danish vessel. Edmund summoned her to surrender, and was answered by a Norseman of great stature and noble appearance, who from the poop hurled a javelin, which would have pierced Edmund had he not leapt quickly aside. A few other darts were thrown and then the Dragon ran alongside the enemy and boarded her.

The opposition of the Northmen was speedily beaten down, but their leader desperately defended the ladder leading to the poop. He was struck by two arrows, and fell on one knee, and Edmund was about to climb the ladder when the door of the cabin in the poop opened, and a Norse maiden some sixteen years old sprang out. Seeing her father wounded at the top of the ladder and the Saxons preparing to ascend it, while others turned their bows against the wounded Northman, she sprang forward and throwing herself upon her knees before Edmund besought him to spare her father's life. Edmund raised his hand and the bows were lowered.

"I have no wish to slay your father, maiden," he said gently; "we slay only those who resist, and resistance on the part of a single man, and he wounded, against a whole ship's crew is madness. We are no sea-wolves who slay for the pleasure of slaying, but are Saxons, who fight for our country against the oppressions and rapine of your people. Little right have they to mercy seeing they show none; but our religion enjoins us to have pity even upon our enemies. You had best ascend to your father and see to his wounds, none will harm you or him."

The girl with an exclamation of thanks sprang up the ladder. Edmund superintended the searching of the ship. She contained a great store of valuables, which were speedily transferred to the Dragon. When this had been done Edmund ascended to the poop. The jarl was sitting in a great chair placed there. Edmund had already learnt from the crew that he was Jarl Siegbert, a noted leader of the Northmen. His daughter had drawn out the arrows and bandaged the wounds.

"Jarl Siegbert," Edmund said as he approached him, "you have been a bitter enemy of the Saxons, and small mercy have you shown to those who have fallen into your hands, but learn now that we Christian Saxons take no vengeance on a defenceless foe. You are free to pursue your voyage with your daughter and your ship to Norway. Your stores we have made free with, seeing that they are all plunder taken from the Saxons, and we do but reclaim our own."

"And who are you, young sir?" the jarl asked.

"I am one of King Alfred's ealdormen of Wessex, Edmund by name."

"I have heard of you," the Dane said, "as one who has taught the Saxons new tactics, fighting in a close body which has more than once pierced our lines and caused our overthrow; but you are a mere lad."

"I am young," Edmund replied, "and had it not been for the invasions and oppressions of your countrymen, might have still accounted myself as scarce a man; but you have made warriors of every West Saxon capable of bearing a sword. Remember, jarl, that your life has been in Saxon hands, and that they have spared it, so come not hither to our shores again."

"I purpose not doing so," the Northman replied. "I have seen enough of stricken fields, and was returning to my own country to hang up my sword, content with the fame I have gained, until Woden called me to join his warriors and feast in his halls. Since we may not meet there, young Saxon—for they say that you Christians look to a place where arms will be laid aside and the sound of feasting be unheard—I will say farewell. For myself, I thank you not for my life, for I would rather have died as I have lived with my sword in my hand; but for my daughter's sake I thank you, for she is but young to be left unprotected in the world."

A few minutes later, the Danish vessel continued on her way, and the Dragon again took her station on the look-out. She was now deep in the water, and after picking up one or two more small prizes, Edmund and Egbert determined to return home.

It was probable that the Danes would soon take the alarm and despatch a fleet to attack them. Laden down as the Dragon was, her speed under oars was materially affected, and it was advisable to stow away their booty before proceeding with further adventures. Her head was turned south, and she coasted down the eastern shores of England without adventure. Several Danish vessels were seen arriving at or quitting the coast, but the Dragon continued her course without heeding them, and rounding the Forelands, sailed along the south coast and made her way up the Parrot.

Upon inquiry they learnt that no event of any importance had taken place during their absence. The Danes were complete masters of the country. King Alfred was in hiding, none knew where. The greater portion of the Danes were at their camp at Chippenham, but parties roamed here and there through the land.

Dressed as countrymen, Edmund and Egbert made their way to Exeter, and there arranged with some traders for the purchase of the less valuable portion of the Dragons cargo. This consisted of rich clothing, silks and other stuffs, wine, vestments, and altar hangings from churches, arms and armour, hides and skins. The prices obtained were far below the real value of the articles, for money was scarce, and none could say when the Danes might again swoop down and clear out the contents of the warehouses. Nevertheless the sum obtained was a large one for those days, and this did not include the value of the gold and silver goblets, salvers, vases, and utensils used in the celebration of religious services.

Of these, spoiled from the houses of the wealthy, and the churches and monasteries, they had obtained a considerable number. These were buried in the wood near the lonely spot at which the Dragon was moored, the rest of the cargo was sent in wagons—the more valuable portions hidden under the hides and skins—to Exeter. The amount which had been obtained from the cargo was divided as agreed before starting: twenty-five shares were set apart for the king, twenty-five shares were divided between the two leaders, and each soldier and sailor had one share. All were well satisfied with the success of the adventure, and with the damage which they had inflicted upon the Danes.

A fortnight's leave was given, for the men to visit their homes, and the money which they had gained in their trip was of great use to their friends in enabling them to repair the damages effected by the Danes. Not a man was absent at the appointed time, and the Dragon again made her way down to the sea.

It was midwinter now, and they cruised along the southern coast of England without perceiving a single hostile sail. They lay for a week off the mouth of the Thames, and then saw four large Danish vessels making their way down the river. They were all vessels of the largest size, strongly built, and full of men, and the Saxons judged them to be too strong to be attacked in company. The Northmen, on seeing the golden dragon flying at the mast-head of the Saxon ship, at once made towards her, keeping in a close body; but the Dragon with sails and oars easily left them behind, and the Danes giving up the pursuit continued on their way.

The Dragon fell into their wake and followed at a distance, hoping that one might prove slower than the others, or that they might in the night get separated. At nightfall, however, the Danes lit cressets of tar and hemp, which enabled them not only to keep close together, but sent out a wide circle of light, so that they could perceive the Dragon should she venture to approach.

For two days and nights the Dragon followed patiently.

"The weather is about to change," Egbert said on the third morning. "Methinks that there is a storm brewing, and if this be so the Northmen may well get separated, and we may pick up one away from her fellows."

Darker and darker grew the sky, and the wind soon blew in furious gusts, raising a sea so heavy that the Saxons were obliged to lay in their oars. By nightfall it was blowing a furious gale. In the gathering darkness and the flying scud the ships of the Danes were lost sight of; but this was of little consequence now, for the attention of the Saxons was directed to their own safety.

For the next three days their position was one of the greatest danger. With only a rag of sail set they ran before the gale from the south-west. Every wave as it overtook them threatened the destruction of the ship; but the Dragon, light and buoyant, and ably handled, rode safely over the waves. On the fourth morning the wind was still blowing fiercely, although its force had in some degree moderated. As the daylight dawned Edmund and Egbert, who had hardly left the poop since the storm began, looked anxiously ahead.

"Surely, Edmund, I see a dark mass ahead?" Egbert exclaimed.

For a minute or two Edmund gazed silently ahead.

"It is so, Egbert," he said; "it is a rocky coast. Do you not see a white fringe below where the waves strike against it?"

As the light became clearer the imminence of their peril grew more distinct. A lofty iron-bound coast rose in front of them, and extended as far as the eye could reach on either hand. The seas broke with terrible force against its base, sending its spray far up on the cliffs.

"Could we bring her about?" Edmund asked the chief of the sailors.

"It would be useless," the man said. "She could not make her way in the teeth of this gale."

"That I see," Edmund said; "but at present we are rushing on to destruction. If we bring her to the wind we may run some distance along the coast before we are driven ashore, and may perceive some spot towards which we may direct her with a chance of making land ere she goes to pieces."

The sail was still further lessened and the ship's head brought round parallel with the coast.

The Dragon laboured tremendously as the sea struck her full on the beam, and every wave flooded her low waist. Each sea which struck her lifted her bodily to leeward, and for every foot she sailed forward she was driven one towards the coast. This was now but three miles distant, and another hour would ensure her destruction; for none there hoped that the anchors, even should they find bottom, could hold her for an instant in the teeth of the gale. Every eye was directed towards the shore, but no break could be seen in the wall of rock which rose almost perpendicularly from the water.

"I fear it is hopeless," Edmund said to Egbert; "the strongest swimmer would be dashed to pieces in an instant against those rocks."

"He would indeed," Egbert replied. "I wish now that we had boldly engaged the four Danish ships. Far better would it have been for us to have died fighting for England on her decks than to have perished here."

The time passed slowly. Every minute the Dragon was swept nearer and nearer towards the rocks.

"She will just make that headland," the master sailor said, "and that is all. Once round it we had best turn her head to the rocks. If the cliffs rise as here sheer from the water, the moment she strikes will be the last for all of us; but if the rocks are, as in some places, piled high at the foot of the cliffs, a few may possibly manage to leap from her forecastle as she strikes and to clamber up."

Scarce a word was spoken on board the Dragon as she came abreast of the headland. It was but a few hundred yards away. The roar of the seas as they struck its base sounded high above the din of the storm. Great sheets of foam were thrown up to a vast height, and the turmoil of the water from the reflux of the waves was so great that the Dragon was tossed upon it like a cock-boat, and each man had to grasp at shroud or bulwark to retain his footing.

Suddenly a cheer burst from end to end of the ship. Beyond the headland a great gap was visible a quarter of a mile wide, as if the cliffs had been rent in sunder by some tremendous convulsion, and a fiord was seen stretching away in the bosom of the hills as far as the eye could reach. The Dragon's head was turned, and soon she was flying before the wind up the inlet. A mile farther and the fiord widened to a lake some two miles across between steep hills clothed from foot to summit with trees.

Its course was winding and they were soon sheltered from the gale and were gliding quietly over comparatively tranquil water. Ten miles up the anchor was let go in a sheltered inlet, and Edmund summoned the whole crew to return thanks to God for their marvellous escape.

The Dragon had suffered severely in her conflict with the elements, her large sails had been split or blown away, the bulwarks at her waist had been shattered, and considerable damage done to her gear and fittings. Four-and-twenty hours were allowed to the men for rest after their labours, and then all hands were set to work to refit.

The next morning Edmund said to his kinsman:

"I will take two of the men and go ashore to hunt; there should be wild boar and deer in these forests, and all would be glad of some fresh meat."

"Be careful, Edmund; remember you are in the country of our enemies, for without doubt this land to which we have been blown is Norway; and although we can see no signs of habitations there may well be villages somewhere among these hills."

"I will be careful," Edmund said, laughing; "and if I do not return in two days do you set sail without me. I should like to discover the abode of some Northern jarl; it would indeed be a grand retaliation to give them a taste of the sufferings they have inflicted upon us."

"That would be good work," Egbert said; "nevertheless I own that at present I am anxious to be at sea again."

"Two days will be sufficient to refit," Edmund said, "and then we will spread our wings. Good-bye, Egbert, I will be back by sunset, and I hope with a deer or two."

Selecting a couple of followers, both skilled with the bow, and all being armed with spears, Edmund leapt ashore, for the water was deep up to the rocks, and the Dragon had been moored alongside for the convenience of taking on board the wood for the repairs.

Although those on board the Dragon guessed it not, many eyes were watching them. A small fishing village lay at the edge of the fiord a mile or two beyond the inlet in which the ship was moored. Hidden as they were among the trees the huts had not been noticed by the Saxons, but the strange ship had been seen by some of those in the village, and the fishermen at once pronounced that whencesoever she might have come she was assuredly no Northman's ship. Messengers had immediately been sent to the villages among the hills. These were widely scattered, and it was not until the day after the ship's arrival that a force was collected which was deemed sufficient to attack it. Already, as Edmund leapt ashore, the Norsemen were making their way quietly through the forest towards the Dragon.

Edmund had advanced but a few hundred yards up the hillside when a large party of Norsemen suddenly sprang upon him. Two Saxon arrows flew true to their marks, then the Danes rushed upon them. So far no words had been spoken, but Edmund placed to his lips the whistle with which he gave orders on board the ship and blew a long shrill note, and then shouted at the top of his voice:

"The Danes! the Danes! push off!"

The instant afterwards he was attacked. He and his men fought bravely, but in a few seconds the latter were cut down and Edmund was levelled to the ground by a tremendous blow from a club.

A minute later the din of battle rose by the water's side; Edmund's whistle and shout had been heard, and the Saxons on shore sprang on board and seized their spears and bows just as the Danes poured down through the trees. For a time the Saxons defended the ship against the desperate attempts of the Danes to gain footing on her; but seeing the number of its assailants, and being certain that Edmund was killed or captured, Egbert ordered the ropes to be cut, and the Dragon was thrust away from the rocks. The oars were then got out and she rowed out of bow-shot from the shore. Then Egbert held a consultation with the leading men among the Saxons.

All on board were filled with grief at the loss of their young leader, but they felt that nothing could be done for him, and it would be but courting danger to remain longer in the fiord. Since so large a force had been collected in the forest news might have been sent to the ports, and at any moment they might see a fleet of the Northmen's galleys barring their retreat; therefore with bitter grief and lamentation the Dragon's sails were hoisted and she made her way to sea.

"My only consolation is," Egbert said, "that if the brave lad is not killed at once he may yet find his way back to England. He is ready of wit and full of invention that, if any can possibly extricate themselves from such a strait, it is assuredly he; but I fear that he fell in the first onslaught. Brave lad, even in the moment of his own peril he thought first of us. Had it not been for his timely warning we should have been taken unawares, and many must have been killed even if the Dragon herself escaped capture."

The storm had entirely abated, and the waters sparkled brightly in the cold January sun as the Dragon sailed out between the two headlands into the sea. Very different were the feelings of the crew to those which had animated them when, two days before, they had passed through the channel; then every heart beat with joy and thankfulness; now the deepest depression and grief reigned on board.

Edmund was adored by his followers. His kindness as their ealdorman, his skill and bravery as a leader, his cheerfulness and brightness under every danger and peril had immensely endeared him to their hearts, and each man felt that he had sustained an irretrievable loss, and that with their chief the spirit which had animated the Dragon and directed their enterprises was gone.

Egbert was a valiant warrior, and was an admirable second to an enterprising leader; but he was altogether without initiative, and, except when excited by danger, was dull and silent. Although all esteemed him and honoured him for his strength and bravery, they felt that he would be a poor substitute indeed for the leader they had lost.



CHAPTER IX: A PRISONER

When Edmund recovered his senses he found that he was being carried along on a rough litter through the forest. It was some little time before he realized his position and recalled the circumstances of the attack. After the Dragon had moved safely out into the fiord, its assailants had returned to the spot where they had attacked the three Saxons who had landed. Two of them were without life, but they found that the third, who, from his habiliments was evidently of higher rank, and whom they judged, although still but a youth, to be the commander of the Saxon party, had only been stunned by the blow of the club which had felled him.

It was at once resolved to carry him to the jarl of the district, who would assuredly wish to learn from him the meaning of the coming of the strange ship. That the Dragon was a Saxon vessel the Northmen were sure. Many of them had been on expeditions across the seas, and knew the Saxons both from their dress and manner of wearing their hair, but the ship was unlike anything they had seen before, and it seemed above all things strange that when, as they understood, England had been completely conquered, Saxon warships should be entering a northern fiord.

For many hours Edmund was carried through the forest. He wondered to himself whether he would be slain on his arrival or kept as a slave, for the Norse and Saxon tongues were so similar that he was perfectly able to understand the language of his captors. A party of twelve men accompanied him, four of whom bore the litter, and were relieved at intervals by the others. After some hours the feeling of giddiness and weakness passed off, and on the men stopping to change bearers he expressed his readiness to walk.

Hitherto he had lain with his eyes closed, as he thought it better to remain as he was until he felt perfectly able to keep up with his captors in a journey which might, for aught he knew, be a long one. The Northmen expressed their satisfaction at finding that their burden need no longer be carried, and throwing aside the boughs which had formed the litter, proceeded with him on their way. They asked him many questions concerning the Dragon. Most of these he answered readily enough, but he evaded those as to the place where she had been built, or the port from which she had sailed. It was not until late in the afternoon that they arrived at the abode of the Jarl Bijorn.

It was a rough abode constructed of timber, thatched with rushes, for as yet the Northmen were scarcely a settled people, the tribes for the most part wandering in the forests hunting when not engaged in those warlike expeditions which they loved above all other things. Only the leaders dwelt in anything like permanent abodes, the rest raising huts of boughs at such places as they might make any stay at.

One of Edmund's conductors had gone on ahead, and as the party approached the building Bijorn came out from his house to meet them. He was, like almost all Northmen, a man of great stature and immense strength. Some fifty years had passed over his head, but he was still in the prime of his life; for the Northmen, owing to their life of constant activity, the development of their muscles from childhood, and their existence passed in the open air, retained their strength and vigour to a great age.

So assiduous was their training, and so rapidly did their figures develop in consequence, that at the age of fifteen a young Northman received arms and was regarded as a man, although he did not marry until many years afterwards, early wedlock being strongly discouraged among them. By Bijorn's side stood his son, who, though but twenty-two years old, rivalled him in stature and in muscular development, although lacking the great width of shoulder of the jarl.

As Edmund approached, a war-horse of the jarl fastened up to a post close to the entrance of the house neighed loudly. Bijorn looked surprised. The neighing of a horse among the Northmen was regarded as the happiest of auguries, and in their sacred groves horses were tied up, as the neighing of these animals was considered an infallible proof that a propitious answer would be given by the gods to the prayer of any petitioner who sought their aid.

"By Thor!" Bijorn exclaimed, "my good war-horse welcomes the stranger. As I said to you anon, Sweyn, I had intended to offer him as a sacrifice to Odin; but as the gods have thus declared him welcome here I must needs change my intentions. Who are you, young Saxon?" he asked as Edmund was brought before him, "and whence do you come? And how is it that a war-ship of your people is found upon our coasts?"

"I am Edmund," the young man said steadily, "an ealdorman of King Alfred of the West Saxons. The ship which was seen on your coast is mine; I built it to attack the Northmen who harry our coasts. I am here because, when in chase of four of your ships, a storm arose and blew us hither."

"You speak boldly," the jarl said, "for one in the hands of his foes. How old are you?"

"I am twenty-two," Edmund replied.

"The same age as you, Sweyn. Stand side by side and let me compare you. Ay," he went on, "he lacks nigh three inches of your height, but he is more than that bigger across the shoulders—a stalwart young champion, indeed, and does brave credit to his rearing. These West Saxons have shown themselves worthy foemen, and handled us roughly last year, as this will testify," and he pointed to the scar of a sword-cut across his face. "Doubtless this is the son of that Saxon earl who more than once last summer inflicted heavy losses upon us. Is that so, young Saxon?"

"I am the Ealdorman Edmund himself," the young man replied quietly. "My successes were won not by my own strength or courage, but by the valour of those under me, who, fighting in a novel manner, gained advantage over your Northmen."

"By Thor!" Bijorn exclaimed, "and this is the youth who attacked us at night and drove off the cattle we had taken and slew many of our followers, Sweyn! Truly he would be a rare sacrifice to offer to Odin; but the god has himself welcomed him here."

"It may be that he welcomed him as a sacrifice, father," Sweyn suggested.

"Ah! that may be so," the jarl replied. "We must consult the omens to find out the true meaning of my charger's neighing. Nevertheless in either case I shall be content, for if he be not welcomed as a sacrifice he is welcome as bringing good fortune; and in truth he will make a noble cup-bearer to me. It is not every jarl who is waited upon by a Saxon ealdorman. But till the omens have spoken let him be set aside and carefully watched. In a day or two we will journey to Odin's temple and there consult the auguries."

Three days passed, during which Edmund was well fed and treated. At the end of that time he was ordered to accompany the jarl on a journey. Two days' travelling brought them to a temple of Odin. It was a rough structure of unhewn stones situated in a wood. Bijorn and his son entered, while Edmund remained without under a guard. Presently the jarl and his son came out with a priest. The latter carried a white bag in his hand with twelve small pieces of wood. On half of these four small nicks were cut, on the others five nicks. All were placed in the bag, which was then shaken.

"Now," the priest said, "you will see the will of Odin; the first three sticks drawn out will declare it. If two of the three bear an even number of nicks, the neigh of your horse signifies that Odin accepted the sacrifice; if two of them bear unequal numbers, then it meant that his coming was propitious to you."

The bag was again shaken. Edmund looked on calmly, for Saxons and Northmen alike disdained to show the slightest fear of death; even the colour did not fade from his cheek as he watched the trial upon which his life depended.

The first stick drawn out bore five marks; the priest showed it to the jarl, and without a word dropped it in the bag again. This was again shaken and another stick drawn out; this bore but four notches; the chances were even. The silence was unbroken until the third twig was drawn.

"Odin has spoken," the priest said. "The neigh of the horse indicated that the coming of this Saxon was propitious to your house."

The jarl gave an exclamation of satisfaction, while Sweyn's brow darkened. Bijorn had indeed set his heart upon retaining this famous young Saxon leader as his slave and cup-bearer, and it was probable that in his interview with the priest before the drawing his inclinations had been clearly shown, for a slight difference between the thickness of the sticks might well have existed and served as an index to the priest in drawing them.

Bijorn, in his gratification at the answer of the god, bestowed a handsome present upon the priest, and then rode back to his abode well content with his journey. Edmund was at once installed in his new duties. Hitherto he had not entered the house nor seen the females of the family. Ulfra, the jarl's wife, was a woman of commanding stature and appearance. Like most of the northern women she had accompanied her husband in his many wanderings, and shared his dangers and privations. The wives of the Norsemen occupied a far more exalted position in the households of their lords than did those of the people of southern Europe; they were not only mistresses of the house, but were treated with respect as well as with affection; they were not, as in the south, regarded as puppets for the amusements of an idle hour, but were the companions and advisers of their husbands, occupying a position at least as free and respected as at the present day.

There were two daughters, who both bade fair to resemble their mother in stature and dignity of demeanour, for both were models of female strength and activity. Edmund's duties were light. In the morning he gathered firewood for the household; at the meals he handed the dishes, and taking his station behind the jarl's chair, refilled his goblet with mead as often as it was empty. Usually a large party sat down to supper, for an expedition to France was talked of in the spring, and the jarls and warriors often met to discuss the place of starting, the arrangements for the voyage, and the numbers which each leader would place in the field. The feasts were kept up to a late hour, and, as was the invariable custom of the Northmen, the arrangements decided upon overnight were rediscussed at a morning meeting; for they held that while over the wine-cup each man would speak the truth frankly and honestly, the colder counsels and greater prudence which the morning brought were needed before any matter could be finally settled.

A month thus passed, and Bijorn, his family and followers then moved south, as there was to be a great conference near the southern point of the country, at which a large number of the chiefs from Denmark were to be present.

Edmund observed that for some reason Sweyn was looking forward anxiously to this meeting, and his sisters more than once joked him about his anxiety.

"Pooh! pooh!" the jarl said one day in answer to such an observation. "Sweyn is but a lad yet. I know what you are driving at, and that Sweyn is smitten with the charms of my old companion's daughter, the pretty Freda; I noted it when we were in camp together; but it will be fully another ten years yet before Sweyn can think of marrying. He has got to win for himself the name of a great warrior before a jarl's daughter of proper spirit would so much as think of him. When he has the spoils of France to lay at her feet it will be time enough."

Sweyn made no reply, but Edmund saw that he was far from pleased at his father's words, and a look of surly determination on his face showed the young Saxon that he would go his own way in the matter if it lay in his power.

After ten days' travelling the party arrived at the rendezvous. Here drawn up on the shore were a vast number of galleys of all sizes, for the greater part of those who had assembled had journeyed by sea. Great numbers of huts of boughs and many tents constructed of sails had been erected. Edmund and the other slaves, these being either Saxon or Franks captured in war, soon erected bowers for the jarl and his family.

Edmund had been looking forward to the meeting with much anxiety, for he had judged that some mode of escape might there open to him. Among the Saxon slaves were several young men of strength and vigour, and Edmund had confided to them his project of stealing a boat and sailing away in it, and they, knowing that he had experience in navigation, had readily consented to join him in making an effort for freedom.

The jarl and his family were warmly welcomed by many of their companions in arms, and the day after their arrival Bijorn told Edmund to accompany him to a banquet at which he and his family were to be present. At four in the afternoon they set out and presently arrived at a large tent. Edmund waited without until the attendants carried in the dishes, when he entered with them and prepared to take his place behind his master's seat. From a few words which had passed between Sweyn and his sisters Edmund doubted not that the companion with whom Bijorn was going to dine was the father of the maiden about whom they had joked him. He was not surprised when on entering he saw Sweyn talking earnestly with a damsel somewhat apart from the rest.

The entrance of the viands was the signal for all to take their places at the table. There were in all sixteen in number, and as nearly half were women the meeting was evidently of a family character, as upon occasions of importance or when serious discussions were to take place men alone sat down. As Edmund advanced to take his place, his eye fell upon the jarl who seated himself at the head of the table, and as he did so he gave a slight start of surprise, for he at once recognized in him the Northman Siegbert, whose ship he had stopped at the mouth of the Humber. From him his eye glanced at the girl by whose side Sweyn was on the point of seating himself, and recognized in her the maiden who had besought her father's life. The dinner commenced and proceeded for some little time, when Edmund saw the girl looking fixedly at him.

"Who is that who is standing behind your father's chair?" she asked Sweyn.

"A Saxon slave," he answered. "His vessel was well-nigh wrecked on our coast. Our people captured him and slew some of his followers, and the ship speedily took to flight."

"Father," the girl said in a clear voice, which at once attracted the attention of all, "unless my eyes deceive me the young Saxon standing behind Jarl Bijorn is he whose ship captured us as we left England, and who suffered no harm to be done to us."

The Northman turned in his chair.

"It is he, Freda, surely enough, though how he comes to be a slave here to my comrade Bijorn I know not. Bijorn, my friend, I owe this youth a deep debt of gratitude; he had my life and the life and honour of Freda in his hands, and he spared both, and, slave though he may be of yours at present, yet I hail him as my friend. Tell me how came he in your hands? He is Edmund, the valiant young Saxon who smote us more than once so heavily down in Wessex."

"I know it," Bijorn replied, "and will tell you how he came into my hands, and in truth he was captured by accident and not by any valour of my arm." The jarl then related the circumstances under which Edmund had been captured, and the narrow escape he had had of being offered as a sacrifice to Odin. And Siegbert then told his guests at length the incidents of his capture by the Dragon.

"He let me go free and without a ransom," he concluded, "and that part of my obligation I should be glad to repay, though for his gentleness to Freda I must still remain his debtor. What say you, Bijorn, will you sell him to me? Name your price in horses, arms, and armour, and whatever it be I will pay it to you."

"In truth, Siegbert," Bijorn said, "I like not to part with the lad; but since you are so urgent, and seeing that you cannot otherwise discharge the obligation under which, as you say, he has laid you, I cannot refuse your prayer. As to the price, we will arrange that anon."

"Then it is settled," Siegbert said. "You are a free man, Ealdorman Edmund," and he held out his hand to the youth. "Now seat yourself at the table with my guests; there are none here but may feel honoured at dining with one of King Alfred's bravest thanes."

The transformation in Edmund's position was sudden indeed; a moment since he was a slave, and although he had determined upon making an effort for freedom, he had known that the chances of escape were small, as swift galleys would have been sent off in pursuit, and it was probable that he would have been speedily overtaken and brought back. Now he was free, and would doubtless be allowed to return home with the first party who sailed thither.

Siegbert at once tried to make Edmund feel at home, addressing much of his conversation to him. Bijorn, too, spoke in a friendly manner with him, but Sweyn was silent and sullen; he was clearly ill-pleased at this change of fortune which had turned his father's slave into a fellow-guest and equal. His annoyance was greatly heightened by the fact that it was Freda who had recognized the young Saxon, and the pleasure which her face evinced when her father proposed to purchase him from Bijorn angered him still more. In his heart he cursed the horse whose welcoming neigh had in the first instance saved Edmund's life, and the trial by augury which had confirmed the first omen. After the banquet was over Siegbert requested Edmund to relate his various adventures.

The telling of tales of daring was one of the favourite amusements of the Danes; Siegbert and his friends quaffed great bumpers of mead; and the ladies sat apart listening while Edmund told his story.

"You have a brave record, indeed," Siegbert said when he had finished, "for one so young; and fond as are our youths of adventure there is not one of them of your age who has accomplished a tithe of what you have done. Why, Freda, if this youth were but one of us he would have the hearts of all the Norse maidens at his feet. In the eyes of a Danish girl, as of a Dane, valour is the highest of recommendations."

"I don't know, father," Freda said, colouring at being thus addressed, "that we should be as bold as that, although assuredly it is but right that a maiden should esteem valour highly. It is to her husband she has to look for protection, and she shares in the honour and spoil which he gains by his valiant deeds, so you have always taught me."

"And rightly too, girl. Next to being a great hero, the greatest honour is to be the wife of one. I pledge you, Ealdorman Edmund, and should be right proud were you a son of mine. You have told your story modestly, for many of the battles and adventures of which you have spoken are known to me by report, and fame has given you a larger share in the successes than you claim for yourself. 'Tis a pity you were not born a Northman, for there is little for you to do in Saxon England now."

"I do not despair yet," Edmund replied. "Things have gone badly with us, but the last blow is not struck yet. You will hear of King Alfred in the spring, unless I am mistaken."

"But they say your King Alfred is half a monk, and that he loves reading books more than handling the sword, though, to do him justice, he has shown himself a brave warrior, and has given us far more trouble than all the other Saxon kings together."

"King Alfred fights bravely," Edmund said, "because he is fighting for his country and people; but it is true that he loves not war nor strife. He reads much and thinks more, and should he ever come to his kingdom again he will assuredly be one of the wisest and best monarchs who has ever sat on a throne. He has talked to me much of the things which he has at heart, and I know he intends to draw up wise laws for the ruling of his people."

"We love not greatly being ruled, we Northmen," Bijorn said, "but for each to go his own way as he wills, provided only he inflicts no ill upon his neighbour. We come and we go each as it pleases him. Our fleets traverse the sea and bring home plunder and booty. What need we of laws?"

"At present you have no great need of laws," Edmund replied, "seeing that you lead a wandering life; but when the time shall come—and it must come to you as it has come to other nations—when you will settle down as a rich and peaceful community, then laws will become necessary."

"Well," Bijorn said, "right glad am I that I live before such times have come. So far as I can see the settling down you speak of, and the abandonment of the ancient gods has done no great good either to you Saxons or to the Franks. Both of you were in the old time valiant people, while now you are unable to withstand our arms. You gather goods, and we carry them off; you build cities, and we destroy them; you cultivate the land, and we sweep off the crops. It seems to me that we have the best of it."

"It seems so at present," Edmund said, "but it will not last. Already in Northumbria and in East Anglia the Danes, seeing that there is no more plunder to be had, are settling down and adopting the customs of the Saxons, and so will it be in Mercia and Wessex if you keep your hold of them, and so will it be in other places. The change is but beginning, but it seems to me certain to come; so I have heard King Alfred say."

"And does he think," Sweyn said scoffingly, speaking almost for the first time, "that we shall abandon the worship of our gods and take to that of your Christ?"

"He thinks so and hopes so," Edmund replied quietly. "So long as men's lives are spent wholly in war they may worship gods like yours, but when once settled in peaceful pursuits they will assuredly recognize the beauty and holiness of the life of Christ. Pardon me," he said, turning to Siegbert, "if it seems to you that I, being still young, speak with over-boldness, but I am telling you what King Alfred says, and all men recognize his wisdom and goodness."

"I know not of your religion myself," Siegbert replied, "but I will own willingly that though its teachings may be peaceful, it makes not cowards of those who believe in it. I have seen over and over again old men and young men die on the altars of their churches as fearlessly and calmly as a Viking should do when his time comes. No Northman fears death, for he knows that a joyous time awaits him; but I am bound to say that your Christians meet death to the full as calmly. Well, each his own way, I say, and for aught I know there may be a Christian heaven as well as the Halls of Odin, and all may be rewarded in their own way for their deeds."

Bijorn and his party now rose to take leave. "I will come across to your tent in the morning," Siegbert said, "and we can then discuss what payment I shall make you for this young Saxon. I fear not that you will prove over hard to your old comrade."

After Bijorn had departed Siegbert assigned to Edmund a place in his tent as an honoured guest. Slaves brought in bundles of rushes for the beds. Freda retired to a small tent which had been erected for her adjoining the larger one, and the jarl and Edmund lay down on their piles of rushes at the upper end of the tent. Siegbert's companions and followers stretched themselves along the sides, the slaves lay down without, and in a few minutes silence reigned in the tent.



CHAPTER X: THE COMBAT

"I was thinking much of what you said last night," Freda said at breakfast. "How is it that you, whose religion is as you say a peaceful one, can yet have performed so many deeds of valour and bloodshed?"

"I am fighting for my home, my country, and my religion," Edmund said. "Christianity does not forbid men to defend themselves; for, did it do so, a band of pagans might ravage all the Christian countries in the world. I fight not because I love it. I hate bloodshed, and would rather die than plunder and slay peaceful and unoffending people. You have been in England and have seen the misery which war has caused there. Such misery assuredly I would inflict on none. I fight only to defend myself and my country men and women. Did your people leave our land I would gladly never draw sword again."

"But what would you do with yourself?" Freda asked in tones of surprise. "How would you pass your time if there were no fighting?"

"I should have plenty to do," Edmund said smiling; "I have my people to look after. I have to see to their welfare; to help those who need it; to settle disputes; to rebuild the churches and houses which have been destroyed. There would be no difficulty in spending my time."

"But how could a man show himself to be a hero," the Danish girl asked, "if there were no fighting?"

"There would be no occasion for heroes," Edmund said, "at least of heroes in the sense you mean—that is, of men famous principally for the number they have slain, and the destruction and misery they have caused. Our religion teaches us that mere courage is not the highest virtue. It is one possessed as much by animals as by men. Higher virtues than this are kindness, charity, unselfishness, and a desire to benefit our fellow-creatures. These virtues make a man a truer hero than the bravest Viking who ever sailed the seas. Even you, Freda, worshipper of Odin as you are, must see that it is a higher and a better life to do good to your fellow-creatures than to do evil."

"It sounds so," the girl said hesitatingly; "but the idea is so new to me that I must think it over before I can come to any conclusion."

Freda then went about her occupations, and Edmund, knowing that Siegbert would not return for some time, as he was going with Bijorn to a council which was to be held early in the day, strolled down to look at the galleys ranged along on the beach. These varied greatly in form and character. Some of the sailing ships were large and clumsy, but the galleys for rowing were lightly and gracefully built. They were low in the water, rising to a lofty bow, which sometimes turned over like the neck of a swan, at other times terminated in a sharp iron prow, formed for running down a hostile boat. Some of them were of great length, with seats for twenty rowers on either side, while all were provided with sails as well as oars. When the hour for dinner approached he returned to Siegbert's tent. The jarl had not yet come back from the council. When he did so Edmund perceived at once that he was flushed and angry.

"What has disturbed you, father?" Freda asked, as on hearing his voice she entered the tent. "Has aught gone wrong at the council?"

"Yes," the jarl replied, "much has gone wrong. Bijorn and I had not concluded our bargain when we went to the council. We had, indeed, no difficulty about the terms, but we had not clasped hands over them, as I was going back to his tent after the council was over. At the council the expedition against France was discussed, and it was proposed that we should consult the gods as to the chances of the adventure. Then the Jarl Eric rose and proposed that it should be done in the usual way by a conflict between a Dane and a captive. This was of course agreed to.

"He then said that he understood that there was in the camp a young Saxon of distinguished valour, and that he proposed that Sweyn, the son of Bijorn, should fight with him. Sweyn had expressed to him his willingness to do so should the council agree. I rose at once and said that the Saxon was no longer a captive, since I had ransomed him because he had once done me a service; but upon being pressed I was forced to admit that the bargain had not been concluded. I must acquit Bijorn of any share in the matter, for it came upon him as much by surprise as it did upon me. It seems that it is all Sweyn's doing. He must have taken the step as having a private grudge against you. Have you had any quarrel with him?"

"No," Edmund replied. "He has ever shown himself haughty and domineering, but we have come to no quarrel."

"At any rate he wants to kill you," Siegbert said. "I did my best to prevent it, pointing out that the combat ought to take place between a Frank and a Dane. However, the Northmen are always glad to see a good fight, and having satisfied themselves that in point of age and strength you were not unfairly matched, they decided that the conflict should take place. He is taller, and I think somewhat stronger than you, and has proved himself a valiant fighter, and I would give much if the combat could be avoided."

"I fear him not," Edmund said quietly, "though I would fain that this could be avoided. Had I met Sweyn upon a battle-field in England I would have slain him as a natural enemy; but to fight him in cold blood, either as a matter of augury or to furnish amusement for the assembly, likes me not. However, I must of course defend myself, and if harm comes to him it is no blame of mine."

"You will have no easy victory, I can tell you," Siegbert said, "for none among our young Danes bears a higher reputation."

"But after the combat is over how shall I stand?" Edmund asked; "for if I defeat or slay Sweyn I shall still be his father's slave."

"That will you not," Siegbert replied. "In these cases the captive if victorious is always restored to liberty; but at any rate you shall fight as a free man, for when I have finished my dinner I will go to Bijorn and conclude our bargain. Do not look so cast down, Freda; a Northman's daughter must not turn pale at the thought of a conflict. Sweyn is the son of my old friend, and was, before he took to arms, your playfellow, and since then has, methought, been anxious to gain your favour, though all too young yet for thinking of taking a wife; but never mind, there are as good as he to be found; and if our young Saxon here proves his conqueror other suitors will come, never fear."

Freda was silent, but her face flushed painfully, and Edmund saw the tears falling down her cheeks as she bent over her plate.

After the meal was over Siegbert again went out, and Edmund, approaching Freda, said, "Do not fret, Freda; if it should be that I find my skill in arms greater than that of Sweyn, I promise you that for your sake I will not wound him mortally."

"I care not," the girl said passionately; "spare him not for my sake, for I hate him, and were there no other Norseman in the world I would never be wife of his."

So saying she left the tent. Edmund now regretted the chance which had assigned him to Siegbert, for he would rather have taken his chance of escape by sea than have awaited the conflict with Sweyn. But he could not carry his plan of escape into effect now, for it would seem as if he had fled the conflict. That this would be a desperate one he did not doubt. The course which Sweyn had taken showed a bitter feeling of hatred against him, and even were it not so the young Northman would, fighting in the presence of the leaders of his nation, assuredly do his best to conquer. But Edmund had already tried his strength with older and more powerful men than his adversary and had little fear of results.

The news of the approaching conflict caused considerable excitement in the Danish camp, and Edmund's figure was narrowly scrutinized as he wandered through it. All who had been engaged in the war in Wessex had heard of Edmund, and there was no slight curiosity, when the news went abroad that the Saxon leader was a captive in the camp, to see what he was like.

At first when it was bruited abroad that Sweyn, the son of Jarl Bijorn, was to fight this noted Saxon champion the idea was that the enterprise was a rash one, strong and valiant as Sweyn was known to be for a young man; but when it was seen that Edmund was no older than he, and to the eye less strong and powerful, they felt confident in the power of their champion to overcome him.

Siegbert spared no pains to see that his guest had an even equal chance. He procured for him a strong and well-made helmet which fitted him comfortably, and gave him the choice out of a large number of shields and swords. Edmund selected a weapon which answered nearly in weight and balance that which he was accustomed to wield. There was feasting again that night in Siegbert's tent; but he did not allow Edmund to join in it, insisting after the meal was over that he should retire to a small hut hard by.

"You will want your head and your nerves in good order to-morrow," he said. "Feasting is good in its way, and the night before battle I always drink deeply, but for a single combat it were best to be prudent." As Edmund left the tent Freda, who had not appeared at dinner, came up to him.

"I have been crying all day," she said simply. "I know not why, for I have often seen my father go out to battle without a tear. I think you must have upset me with your talk this morning. I hope that you will win, because it was wrong and unfair of Sweyn to force this battle upon you; and I hate him for it! I shall pray Odin to give you victory. You don't believe in him, I know; still my prayers can do you no harm."

"Thank you," Edmund said. "I shall pray to One greater and better than Odin. But weep not any longer, for I trust neither of us will be killed. I shall do my best to guard myself, and shall try not to slay him; for this fight is not for my nation or for my religion, but concerns myself only."

The following morning the Northmen assembled. The jarls and other leading men formed the inner line of a circle some thirty yards in diameter, the others stood without; Jarl Eric entered the ring with Sweyn, while Edmund, accompanied by Siegbert, entered at the other side of the circle.

"I protest," Siegbert cried in a loud voice, "against this conflict taking place. Edmund the Saxon is no captive here, but a free man, and my guest; moreover, being a Saxon, the issue of this fight between him and a Northman can serve no purpose as an augury as to the success of our expedition against the Franks. Therefore do I protest against the conflict."

There was again a consultation between the leaders, for a murmur of approbation had run round the ranks of the spectators, who it was evident were impressed in favour of the young Saxon, and considered that the jarl's words were just and reasonable. Eric spoke for a minute with Sweyn.

"I feel," he said in a loud voice, "that what Jarl Siegbert says is reasonable, that no augury can be drawn from the fight, and that, since Edmund is no longer a captive, and a friend of Siegbert's, he cannot be forced into fighting in order that we may have an augury. But the Saxon, though so young, has won a reputation even among us, the enemies of his race; and my friend Sweyn, who has shown himself one of the bravest of our young men, considers that he has cause of quarrel with him, and challenges him to fight—not necessarily to the death, or till one is slain, but till the jarls here assembled do pronounce one or the other to be the victor. This is a fair challenge—first, there is a private quarrel; next, there is emulation between these young men, who may fairly claim to be the champions of the youth of the two races. Such a challenge the Saxon will hardly refuse."

In accordance with the customs of the day it would have been impossible for Edmund to have refused such a challenge without disgrace, and he did not for a moment think of doing so.

"I am ready to fight Sweyn," he said. "I have no great cause of quarrel with him; but if he conceives that he has grounds of quarrel with me, that is enough. As to championship of the Saxons, we have no champions; we fight not for personal honour or glory, but for our homes, our countries, and our religion, each doing his best according to the strength God has given him, and without thought of pride on the one hand or envy on the other because the strength or courage of one may be somewhat greater than that of another. Still, as a Saxon standing here as the only representative of my nation in an assembly of Northmen, I cannot refuse such a challenge, for to do so would be to infer that we Saxons are less brave than you. Therefore I am ready for the combat."

The Northmen clashed their weapons against their shields in token of their approval of the young Saxon's words, and the young champions prepared for the combat. They were naked to the waist save for shield and helmet; below the waist each wore a short and tightly-fitting garment covered with plates of brass; the legs were naked, and each wore a pair of light sandals; their weapons were long straight swords. The weapon Edmund had chosen was considerably lighter than that of his opponent, but was of toughest steel, on which were engraved in rough characters, "Prayers to Woden for victory."

The difference in height between the combatants was considerable. Edmund stood five feet ten, but looked shorter from the squareness and width of his shoulders. Sweyn was nearly four inches taller, and he too was very strongly built. His muscles indeed stood out in stronger development than did those of Edmund, and if pure strength was to win the day few of those who looked on doubted that the Dane would be the victor.

The combat was a long one. For some time Edmund contented himself with standing upon the defensive and guarding the tremendous blows which Sweyn rained upon him. In spite of the efforts of the Northman, he could neither beat down the Saxon's guard nor force him to fall back a single step.

Again and again the rattle of the spectators' arms clashed an approval of Edmund's steady resistance to his opponent's assaults. The Norsemen delighted beyond all things in a well-fought encounter. Each man, himself a warrior, was able to appreciate the value of the strokes and parries. The betting at the commencement had run high upon Sweyn, and horses, armour, arms, and slaves had been freely wagered upon his success; but as the fight went on the odds veered round, and the demeanour of the combatants had as much to do with this as the skill and strength shown by Edmund in his defence. The Dane was flushed and furious; his temper gave way under the failure of his assaults. The Saxon, on the contrary, fought as calmly and coolly as if practicing with blunted weapons; his eyes never left those of his adversary, a half smile played on his lips, and although drops of perspiration from his forehead showed how great were his exertions, his breathing hardly quickened.

Twice Sweyn drew back for breath, and Edmund each time, instead of pressing him, dropped the point of his sword and waited for him to renew the combat. At present he had scarce struck a blow, and while his own shield was riven in several places and his helmet dinted, those of Sweyn were unmarked.

At the third assault Sweyn came up determined to end the conflict, and renewed the attack with greater fury than before. Three times his sword descended with tremendous force, but each time it met the blade of the Saxon; the fourth time his arm was raised, then there was a flash and a sudden shout from the crowd.

With a mighty blow Edmund had smitten full on his opponent's uplifted arm, and, striking it just above the elbow, the sword clove through flesh and bone, and the severed limb, still grasping the sword, fell to the ground.

A loud shout of approval burst from the Danes. Although the conqueror was their enemy they appreciated so highly the virtues of coolness and courage that their applause was no less hearty than if the victor had been a countryman. Sweyn had fallen almost the instant the blow had been struck. The ring was at once broken up, and his friends ran to him. The Norsemen were adepts at the treatment of wounds, and everything had been prepared in case of emergencies.

A bandage was instantly tied tightly round the upper part of the arm to stop the rush of blood, and the stump was then dipped into boiling pitch, and Sweyn, who had become almost instantly insensible from the loss of blood, was carried to his father's tent. According to custom handsome presents of swords and armour were made to Edmund by those who had won by his success.

It would have been considered churlish to refuse them, and Edmund had no thought of doing so, for he needed money, and these things in those days were equivalent to wealth.

"You have done well and gallantly indeed, my young friend," Siegbert said as, followed by several slaves bearing Edmund's presents, they returned to the tent. "I am glad you did not slay him, for I think not that he will die. Such a blow given in battle would assuredly have been fatal, but here the means of stanching the blood were at hand, and I trust for Bijorn's sake that he will recover; but whether or no he brought it on himself."

On reaching the tent Freda ran out radiant.

"I hear that you have conquered," she said, "and I am glad indeed; it serves him right, for all say that he forced the fight upon you."

"I did not know that your sympathies were so strongly against Sweyn," Siegbert said in a somewhat reproachful tone. "He has always been your devoted follower."

"He has always been my tyrant, father, for he has always insisted on my doing his pleasure; but if he had been ten times my follower, and had been a valiant warrior instead of a youth, and I a maiden of twenty instead of a girl of fifteen, I should still be glad that he was conquered, because without any reason for quarrel he has sought to slay this Saxon youth who did us such great service, and to whom as he knew we were so indebted."

Siegbert smiled. "Hitherto I have wondered, daughter mine, at the reason which induced Sweyn to challenge Edmund, but now methinks I understand it. Sweyn has, as his father has told me, youth as he is, set his heart on winning your hand when you shall reach the age of womanhood, and it is just because Edmund has done you and me service that he hates him. You are young, child, for your bright eyes to have caused bloodshed; if you go on like this there will be no end to the trouble I shall have on your account before I get you fairly wedded."

Freda coloured hotly.

"That is nonsense, father; another five years will be soon enough to begin to think of such things. At any rate," she said with a laugh, "I am rid of Sweyn, for he can hardly expect me ever to love a one-armed man."

"There have been brave warriors," Seigbert said, "with but one arm."

"It makes no difference," Freda laughed; "if he had fifty arms I should never love him."

Edmund now entreated Siegbert to repay himself from the presents he had received for the goods he had the evening before given to Bijorn as the price of his liberty, but this the jarl would not hear of. Edmund then begged him to buy with them, of Bijorn, the four Saxon slaves with whom he had agreed to attempt an escape, and to expend the rest of the presents in freeing as many other Saxon prisoners as he could.

This Siegbert did, and by the evening Edmund had the satisfaction of finding around him twelve Saxons whose freedom he had purchased. He remained as the guest of Siegbert until the expedition sailed in the last week of March. Then with the twelve Saxons he embarked in Siegbert's ship, which, instead of keeping with the others, sailed for the mouth of the Thames. The wind was favourable and the passage quick, and three days after sailing Edmund and his companions were disembarked on the coast of Kent. His adieus with Siegbert were hearty and earnest.

"I would you had been a Northman," the jarl said, "for I love you as a son, and methinks that when the time comes, had you been so inclined, you might have really stood in that relation to me, for I guess that my little Freda would not have said no had you asked her hand; but now our paths are to part. I shall never war again with the Saxons, for indeed there is but scant booty to be gained there, while you are not likely again to be cast upon our shores; but should the fates ever throw us together again, remember that you have a friend for life in Jarl Siegbert."

Freda, who had accompanied her father as usual, wept bitterly at the parting, which, however, she did not deem to be as final as it appeared to her father; for the evening before, as she was standing on the poop with Edmund, he had said to her, "You will not forget me, Freda; we are both very young yet; but some day, when the wars are over, and England no longer requires my sword, I will seek you again."

"Is that a promise, Edmund?"

"Yes, Freda, a solemn promise."

"I will wait for you," she said simply, "if it were till the end of my life."

The youth and girl ratified the promise by a kiss, and Freda, as through her tears she watched the boat which conveyed Edmund and his companions to shore, felt sure that some day she should see her Saxon hero again.

On landing, Edmund soon learned that the Danes were everywhere masters, and that since the autumn nothing had been heard of the king, who was supposed to be somewhere in hiding.

In every village through which they passed they found evidence of the mastership of the Danes. Many of the houses were burnt or destroyed, the people were all dressed in the poorest garb, and their sad faces and listless mien told of the despair which everywhere prevailed. In every church the altars had been thrown down, the holy emblems and images destroyed, the monks and priests had fled across the sea or had been slain.

The Danish gods, Thor and Woden, had become the divinities of the land, and the Saxons, in whom Christianity had but recently supplanted the superstitions of paganism, were fast returning to the worship of the pagan gods. Edmund and his companions were shocked at the change. On reaching home they found that the ravages of the Danes had here been particularly severe, doubtless in revenge for the heavy loss which had been sustained by them in their attack upon Edmund's fortification. His own abode had been completely levelled to the ground, and the villages and farm-houses for the most part wholly destroyed. His people were lying in rude shelters which they had raised, but their condition was very much better than that of the people in general.

The news of Edmund's return spread like wildfire, and excited the most extreme joy among his people, who had long given him up for lost. He found to his delight that the Dragon had returned safely, and that she was laid up in her old hiding-place. The great amount of spoil with which she was loaded had enabled her crew largely to assist their friends, and it was this which had already raised the condition of the people above that of their neighbours. Houses were being gradually rebuilt, animals had been brought from districts which had been less ravaged by the Danes, and something approaching comfort was being rapidly restored.

Upon the day after Edmund's return Egbert arrived. Feeling sure of Edmund's death he had taken no steps towards rebuilding the house, but was living a wild life in the woods, when the news reached him that Edmund had reappeared. His own large share of the booty with that of Edmund he had buried, with the portion set aside for the king, in the wood near the spot where the Dragon was laid up.

They had passed up the Parrot at night unobserved by the Danes, and after taking the masts out of the Dragon, and dismantling her, they had laid her up in the hole near the river where she was built. There was little fear of her discovery there, for the Danes were for the most part gathered in winter quarters at the great camp near Chippenham.

Egbert's delight at the reappearance of Edmund was unbounded, for he loved him as a son, and it was a long time before their joy at the meeting was sufficiently calmed down to enable them to tell each other the events which had happened since they parted three months before. Egbert's narrative was indeed brief. He had remained two or three days off the coast of Norway in the lingering hope that Edmund might in some way have escaped death, and might yet come off and join him. At the end of a week this hope had faded, and he sailed for England. Being winter, but few Danish galleys were at sea, and he had encountered none from the time he set sail until he arrived off the coast at the mouth of the Parrot.

He had entered the river at night so as to be unseen by any in the village at its mouth, and had, after the Dragon was laid up, passed his time in the forest. Edmund's narration was much more lengthy, and Egbert was surprised indeed to find that his kinsman owed his freedom to the jarl whose vessel they had captured at the mouth of the Humber.



CHAPTER XI: THE ISLE OF ATHELNEY

Edmund spent a month on his lands, moving about among his vassals and dwelling in their abodes. He inspired them by his words with fresh spirit and confidence, telling them that this state of things could not last, and that he was going to join the king, who doubtless would soon call them to take part in a fresh effort to drive out their cruel oppressors. Edmund found that although none knew with certainty the hiding-place of King Alfred, it was generally reported that he had taken refuge in the low lands of Somersetshire, and Athelney was specially named as the place which he had made his abode.

"It is a good omen," Edmund said, "for Athelney lies close to the Parrot, where my good ship the Dragon is laid away."

After visiting all the villages in his earldom Edmund started with Egbert and four young men, whom he might use as messengers, for the reported hiding-place of the king. First they visited the Dragon, and found her lying undisturbed; then they followed the river down till they reached the great swamps which extended for a considerable distance near its mouth. After much wandering they came upon the hut of a fisherman. The man on hearing the footsteps came to his door with a bent bow. When he saw that the new-comers were Saxons he lowered the arrow which was already fitted to the string.

"Can you tell us," Edmund said, "which is the way to Athelney? We know that it is an island amidst these morasses, but we are strangers to the locality and cannot find it."

"And you might search for weeks," the man said, "without finding it, so thickly is it surrounded by deep swamps and woods. But what want ye there?"

"Men say," Edmund replied, "that King Alfred is hidden there. We are faithful followers of his. I am Ealdorman Edmund of Sherborne, and have good news for the king."

"If ye are indeed the Ealdorman of Sherborne, of whose bravery I have heard much, I will right willingly lead you to Athelney if you will, but no king will you find there. There are a few fugitives from the Danes scattered here and there in these marshes, but none, so far as I know, of any rank or station. However, I will lead you thither should you still wish to go."

Edmund expressed his desire to visit the island even if the king were not there. The man at once drew out a small boat from a hiding-place near his hut. It would hold four at most. Edmund and Egbert stepped in with one of their followers, charging the others to remain at the hut until they received further instructions. The fisherman with a long pole took his place in the bow of the boat and pushed off. For some hours they made their way through the labyrinth of sluggish and narrow channels of the morass. It was a gloomy journey. The leafless trees frequently met overhead; the long rushes in the wetter parts of the swamp rustled as the cold breezes swept across them, and a slight coating of snow which had fallen the previous night added to the dreary aspect of the scene. At last they came upon sharply rising ground.

"This is Athelney," the fisherman said, "a good hiding-place truly; for, as you see, it rises high over the surrounding country, which is always swampy from the waters of the Parrot and Theme, and at high tides the salt water of the sea fills all these waterways, and the trees rise from a broad sheet of sea. No Dane has ever yet set foot among these marshes; and were there but provisions to keep them alive, a safe refuge might be found on this island for hundreds of fugitives. Will you be returning to-night?"

"That I cannot tell you," Edmund replied; "but at any rate I will hire you and your boat to remain at my service for a week, and will pay you a far higher price than you can obtain by your fishing."

The fisherman readily agreed, and Edmund and his companions made their way into the heart of the island. It was of some extent, and rose above the tree-tops of the surrounding country. Presently they came to a cottage. A man came out.

"What do you seek?" he asked.

"You have fugitives in refuge here," Edmund said. "Know you if among them is our good King Alfred?" The man looked astonished.

"A pretty place to seek for a king!" he replied. "There are a few Saxons in hiding here. Some live by fishing, some chop wood; but for the most part they are an idle and thriftless lot, and methinks have fled hither rather to escape from honest work or to avoid the penalties of crimes than for any other reason."

"How may we find them?" Edmund asked.

"They are scattered over the island. There are eight or ten dwellers here like myself, and several of them have one or more of these fellows with them; others have built huts for themselves and shift as they can; but it is a hard shift, I reckon, and beech-nuts and acorns, eked out with an occasional fish caught in the streams, is all they have to live upon. I wonder that they do not go back to honest work among their kinsfolk."

"Ah!" Edmund said, "you do not know here how cruel are the ravages of the Danes; our homes are broken up and our villages destroyed, and every forest in the land is peopled with fugitive Saxons. Did you know that you would speak less harshly of those here. At any rate the man I seek is young and fair-looking, and would, I should think"—and he smiled as he remembered Alfred's studious habits—"be one of the most shiftless of those here."

"There is such a one," the man replied, "and several times friends of his have been hither to see him. He dwells at my next neighbour's, who is often driven well-nigh out of her mind—for she is a dame with a shrewish tongue and sharp temper—by his inattention. She only asks of him that he will cut wood and keep an eye over her pigs, which wander in the forest, in return for his food; and yet, simple as are his duties, he is for ever forgetting them. I warrant me, the dame would not so long have put up with him had he not been so fair and helpless. However bad-tempered a woman may be, she has always a tender corner in her heart for this sort of fellow. There, you can take this path through the trees and follow it on; it will take you straight to her cottage."

The description given by the man tallied so accurately with that of the king that Edmund felt confident that he was on the right track. The fact, too, that from time to time men had come to see this person added to the probability of his being the king. Presently they came upon the hut. A number of pigs were feeding under the trees around it; the door was open, and the shrill tones of a woman's voice raised in anger could be heard as they approached.

"You are an idle loon, and I will no longer put up with your ways, and you may seek another mistress. You are worse than useless here. I do but ask you to watch these cakes while I go over to speak with my neighbour, and inquire how she and the child born yestereven are getting on, and you go to sleep by the fire and suffer the case to burn.

"You were not asleep, you say? then so much the worse. Where were your eyes, then? And where was your nose? Why, I smelt the cakes a hundred yards away, and you sitting over them, and as you say awake, neither saw them burning nor smelt them! You are enough to break an honest woman's heart with your mooning ways. You are ready enough to eat when the meal-time comes, but are too lazy even to watch the food as it cooks. I tell you I will have no more of you. I have put up with you till I am verily ashamed of my own patience; but this is too much, and you must go your way, for I will have no more of you."

At this moment Edmund and Egbert appeared at the door of the hut. As he had expected from the nature of the colloquy Edmund saw King Alfred standing contrite and ashamed before the angry dame.

"My beloved sovereign!" he cried, running in and falling on his knees.

"My trusted Edmund," Alfred exclaimed cordially, "right glad am I to see you, and you too, my valiant Egbert; truly I feared that the good ship Dragon had long since fallen into the hands of our enemy."

"The Dragon lies not many miles hence, your majesty, in the hole in which she was built, by the river Parrot; she has done bravely and has brought home a rich store of booty, a large share of which has been hidden away for your majesty, and can be brought here in a few hours should you wish it."

"Verily I am glad to hear it, Edmund, for I have long been penniless; and I have great need of something at least to pay this good woman for all the trouble she has been at with me, and for her food which my carelessness has destroyed, as you may have heard but now."

Edmund and Egbert joined in the king's merry laugh. The dame looked a picture of consternation and fell upon her knees.

"Pardon me, your majesty," she cried; "to think that I have ventured to abuse our good King Alfred, and have even in mine anger lifted my hand against him!"