"An old man broken with the storms of state,Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;Give him a little earth for charity!"Shakespeare.
"An old man broken with the storms of state,Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;Give him a little earth for charity!"
Shakespeare.
One chill December morning, as certain lay brothers of the monastery of Crowland were engaged gathering faggots in the woods to feed the fires of the Abbey, they came across a strange-looking figure, sitting on a fallen tree and leaning heavily against another. His cheeks were blanched like the snow, and his long red hair and beard was falling unkempt and matted over his shoulders and chest. He seemed sadly worn and helpless, with strength utterly exhausted; but beneath his shaggy eyebrows his eyes glowed with a strange, unnatural light. Beside him sat a half-starved hound whining piteously, and licking the cold and emaciated fingers of his master. The churls gazed upon the stranger in abject terror, thinking him to be some satyr or spirit of the wood, who would surely work them ill; but as the figure beckoned them feebly to approach nearer, with much trembling and irresolution they drew near enough to hear his voice.
"Can you tell me if I am near the monastery of Crowland?" said he feebly.
"You are not many bowshots from thence," they replied.
"Can you tell me whether Ethel the Saxon, daughter of Beowulf, dwells there?"
"Torfrida, wife of Hereward, and Godiva, wife of Leofric, are here; and there is a younger one called Ethel, with the flaxen hair. She is a holy woman, much given to penances and fasting, and she is very good to the poor; is it her you seek?"
"I have come a long way to seek this Ethel, and I am sorely wounded and very faint. Could ye, for love or charity, carry me in your bullock cart, for I have no further strength, and must perish shortly if ye leave me here."
So, assured by the evident helplessness of this strange being, the churls came a little nearer, and asked him some further questions concerning his strange quest. Eventually, they unloaded their rude cart of its burden of wood; then they hastily pulled some tall grass, and scraped together some dead leaves. Of these they made a rough sort of bed to ease the jolting of the rude cart over the rough ground. With much difficulty they lifted the stranger in, for he was of burly build, though sorely wasted. Then, slowly and tediously, through the windings of the forest, they returned to the Abbey. Nourishments and cordials were administered to him, his untended wounds were washed and dressed, and he was put to bed.
"Ye are very kind to me, but have ye not a maiden called Ethel here? Let me but speak with Ethel, daughter of the Saxon thane, Beowulf," pleaded the stranger.
"Be patient, stranger," said Torfrida, who bent tenderly over him, moistening his parched lips. "Ethel is on an errand of mercy to the sick poor."
"Ah! ye know not how I love this Ethel—things might have been different if Ethel had not left me."
As soon as Ethel returned from her mission, she was informed that a wounded stranger had come from far in quest of her. Immediately she hastened to the bedside of the sick one, wondering, and tremulous with agitation, and with many strange misgivings of heart.
It was as she feared—there lay Sigurd in pain and great weakness, his broad frame shattered and wasted almost to skin and bone. It was palpable also, that the fierce, restless spirit was hopelessly and rapidly consuming the small remnant of vitality still spared to him. His eyes were deeply sunken, and shining with unnatural light, telling but too plainly that another grim and unwelcome visitor was lurking near, and that no human skill could long keephimat bay.
Ethel sat down beside him in her convent habit. What a transformation was here! Sigurd uttered a deep groan when he set eyes on her. The long flaxen locks, once the crown and glory of her youth, were cut short, and the remnant hidden by her hood. The blue eyes, so tender and expressive, and the fine, regular features were still there. The soft, fair skin was a shade paler, and the short time which had elapsed had palpably aged her, or else it was the cloister habit which made her seem so much older. One thin hand was immediately grasped by the worn and attenuated fingers of Sigurd, as he looked up most reverently into her face. This fair Saxon had long been to himSt. Ethel, and her form was enshrined in his heart. He proceeded to question her in serious tones.
"I am well nigh hunted to death, as you see, Ethel—dead beat—dead beat at last. What think ye, Ethel; shall I get well?"
Ethel shook her head.
"I am afraid not in this world, my lord."
He responded with a low groan.
"But I can't be spared now, Ethel; the old cause is desperate now, and sorely in need of me. What will become of my oppressed countrymen, with never a leader to look to?"
"God alone knows, my lord, but all things are in His hand; and I trust that through this fiery ordeal, and through the long struggle, He will bring profit to the nation. Already signs are manifest that the hatred of William is abating, and Saxons here and there are being received into favour."
"Ah! Saxons being received into favour by the tyrant usurper! Then, I wot the renegade Oswald, and sycophants and timeservers generally, will thrive. My curses on the cowardly brood!"
"Call them not renegade, my lord, neither curse them. Oswald will best serve his countrymen by frankly accepting what was inevitable in any case."
"Nothing was inevitable, if he had but had the mind to stand by his country. We would have followed him anywhere, for there was none of us with a head to command like he had; and he wielded a powerful sword. No other man ever got the better of me in single combat, and I could have worshipped him had he stood by us. 'Twas the Norman woman bewitched him, and I hate him for saving his coward's skin and betraying his country, because a dark-eyed siren and temptress beckoned him."
"My lord, no more of this! He was the wisest amongst us, and saw farthest; and if you and others had been guided by him, there would have been less of Saxon blood shed. I think I see clearly in this revolution the hand of a wiser and a mightier than he—One who has seen fit to cast your Viking hardihood and valour, and stern, severe virtues, and the Saxons' milder traits, along with Norman chivalry and refinement, into the eternal crucible. You and I and ours, it is true, may lose our identity; but all that is best will reappear in the ages to come."
"Ye speak in riddles, Ethel. Do ye think the Viking race will lose its identity? Never!" said he, with fierce emphasis. "Vikings, who have sailed every sea and conquered everywhere, to be swallowed up by this womanish people—never! This will not do! Get me my sword, Ethel; if I but feel it I shall be strong again."
"The sword is resting in its scabbard, my lord. It has long since drunk in its fill of blood—let it rest for ever."
"Why have ye taken my sword from me, Ethel? I can wield it yet. I tell thee, Ethel"—making a vain effort to raise himself—"there's marrow in the Viking race yet, and we shall sweep the seas again as of old! I will not lie here. Let me to the Bruneswald; I have men left yet, and we'll make a fight for it to the end!"
"My lord, you will never handle sword again. The Viking's cause—thereign of force—has received its mortal wound. 'Twill linger probably through centuries of darkness, and amid the twilight of the days still later; for men, benighted men, here and there, will give it a spasmodic and fitful revival; but never more in the ages of the world will the gaunt and hateful reign of force be paramount."
"Ethel! Ethel! Ye embitter my death. What will ye have, girl? Are our gods dead, think ye? Where are our Sagas? Bethink ye, there is the Viking race beyond the North Sea, and they'll come again; and do ye think these sleek and well-fed Normans will drive them out? The hardy warriors from the mountains and fiords over the fierce sea are coming. Hist!" he shouted, half delirious, "do ye hear their shouts? Will ye reach me my sword, Ethel? I must be up and meet them!" Then he sank back exhausted once more. "Tut, tut, we deserve this for our folly. What am I doing; going to die in a bed? The sea is the Viking's home. Why did we ever take to land, except for plunder? Accursed ease and effeminacy have undone us. But we'll to the sea again. Wait awhile, Ethel; ye shall see who will be masters."
"Calm yourself, my lord, and think of other things, for time is short. The Viking's godsaredead if ye ask me, or what is more true, they never had an existence, and were only the creation of a wild and barbarous fancy."
Sigurd looked at her steadily.
"Oh, ye are a Christian now, Ethel! Ye should not have left the old faith; ye take the heart out of me; ye should have stood by the old faith, then we should have met again in Valhalla, you and I. Ye know not how ye make the Viking's death hard to bear: ye take my staff from me as I ford the stream."
"We shall never meet in Valhalla, my lord! but we may meet again in the kingdom of our God."
"Not me, Ethel! ye do not mean that I may go to the Christian's heaven—bethink you what I am."
"Yes, you may go, my lord. I am not without hopes that even you may be found there. Certain you shall, if you are willing."
"Will you be there, Ethel?"
"Through the mercy of God I hope to be there."
"But ye say He is a Prince of Peace?"
"Yes, He is the Prince of Peace."
"Ye know I am a Viking; what could I do in the Christian's heaven? Should I have my trusty sword?"
"No, my lord, you would need no sword there, for hatred, oppression, and wrong, are unknown in heaven."
"Will ye be my bride then, Ethel?"
"They neither marry, nor are given in marriage, my lord."
"Should I be nearyou, Ethel, always?"
"I should like to be near you, if I may, my lord."
"Ah, then I would like to go to the Christian's heaven if I might be nearyou. There will be no Normans there, will there, Ethel?"
"Yes, my lord, I hope there will be Normans there also."
"Norman's there! Ah! that would spoil it, Ethel. What would a Skald like me do with my heart on fire with hatred of these Normans? It will not do, Ethel! It will not do! The Christian's heaven will not do for the Viking!"
"But our God will give you a new heart. He takes our heart of stone and gives us a heart of flesh, so that weloveour enemies."
Sigurd responded with a deep groan. "But Ethel, girl, what madness is this? I should not be a Viking! what should I be, then? Should I wear silks, and strut about in feathers and fringeing and be a flabby courtezan? If so, I think I would prefer the Viking's Valhalla, after all; it suits the Viking best. Why won't ye go withme, Ethel, girl? Let the Norman and the slaves of Saxons have their heaven. Perhaps ye think I should drag ye over the wild hills, or through the greenwood; but I would be gentle to ye. Ye little know how I love ye, Ethel."
"My lord, your mind is very dark; I will send a priest who will instruct you in these things."
"I want never a priest, Ethel; ye can tell me best. Do ye know, Ethel, the old priest Olaf is dead? What evils have befallen our race! I fear ye prophesy rightly; the end is indeed come."
"I have no news, my lord; but I expected this."
"Yes, he is dead; he would drag his crazy limbs after us in our last struggle with the Normans; he said the gods would protect him, for he had a charmed life, and that they would fight for us and give us the victory; but we were outnumbered, my followers were all slain to a man; but the Normans were also, for I cut down the last of them. Olaf, our old priest, was also hacked to death by the enemy."
"He was the last priest of the old heathen line, and he will have no successor. The old heathenism is gone for ever, my lord."
Sigurd groaned deeply, and called in frantic tones upon the spirits of Valhalla. "Odin! Norseman's god! Can't ye help us in this pinch? can't ye help us, I say?" Then with a deep groan he sank back in complete exhaustion.
"Calm yourself, my lord, or I must leave you," said Ethel. "But Sigurd heard her not, his eyes were closed and he was evidently spent. With a feverish start, however, he opened his eyes again, and sought eagerly for the loved form of Ethel.
"Ah, I thought ye had left me. The end has come, Ethel; I shall not get well again, but I have one request; let me be buried near thesea, for I know the Vikings will come again, and I'll hear their shouts of victory and the shock of their onslaught; and, Ethel, let me bemound laid, mound laid, mark me, Ethel! then they'll know 'tis a Viking chief's grave, and the Skalds will sing of my exploits. Ethel, have my sword also laid under my head, ready, my trusty sword 'Tyrfing,' (foe-hater), we must not be parted. It's very dark, Ethel." Slowly his eyes closed, and for a little while he lay quiet; then he started up and shouted. "Down with the Normans! Ho, men! carry me out of the cave; I cannot breathe here." After this fashion for a little while the fitful struggle continued, and then in quietness the contest ended; and the last of the Vikings closed his eyes with the loved form of Ethel bending over him.
"Man's love is of a man's life a thing apart,'Tis woman's whole existence."Byron.
"Man's love is of a man's life a thing apart,'Tis woman's whole existence."
Byron.
We must now make an end for the present of our extracts from these somewhat interesting chronicles. Sigurd, when we last saw him, was lying in the arms of death, overborne by many wounds and hard circumstances. He closed life's fitful career, clasping tightly the hand of Ethel; and his great wish anent his burial was conscientiously carried out by her. Saxon hands bore him by stealthy night-marches to a silent spot where the fierce North Sea waves break upon the lonely Fen-country shore. They dug for him a grave overlooking a wind-sheltered bay, where ofttimes the Viking rovers had anchored their vessels of war, and from thence burst like an avalanche over the country, sweeping it bare of its cattle and its treasures. They dug deep his grave and laid his trusty sword beneath his head; and Ethel was there—a sincere mourner at his burial. Then they heaped the mound high, as Vikings were wont to bury their chiefs, and as Sigurd wished it. Now, silently he awaits the great awakening, and not without hope; for, according to his light, he had a great ideal, and with rare courage, unselfishness, and devotion he struggled to accomplish what was beyond him, and that which the march of the ages had decreed should come to an end, but which should never be forgotten so long as men long to know what races were the important factors in the history-making peoples of the world.
It is scarcely necessary to say that Oswald's being received into favour by the king, had a most beneficial effect upon the Saxon portion of the population; and it did much to mitigate the rigours of that race ascendency which the Normans strove to maintain. Our part of the country began gradually to assume the wonted appearance of cultivation it had worn prior to the troublous times of the Conquest. The lazy and overbearing manners of the conquerors received a salutary check, and Norman men-at-arms gradually settled down to peaceful occupations. Wulfhere, the stalwart freeman, resumed possession of his ancient patrimony, and in company of his charming little wife, Jeannette, was more than content. Soon there began to play about his doors stout-limbed youngsters, who, for enterprise and daring, bid fair to contribute vigorously to the perpetuation of the stalwart race offreemen, which had been such an important factor in English history for many generations prior to the Norman Conquest.
The only other incident we need mention happened many years after the events recorded in these pages.
One bright autumnal day, several of the children of Oswald were at play in the woods near the castle, alternating their play by gathering the walnuts and chestnuts which had fallen from the trees, or pelting the squirrels as they leaped from tree to tree overhead, happy as only children can be, when surrounded by bounteous and beautiful nature. Suddenly there emerged from the thicket a woman, in the habiliments worn by those who had renounced the world and devoted their lives to the service of the church. The children were somewhat startled at the advent of this strange figure; but her sweet face and winning smile completely reassured them. She went up to the eldest boy and asked him his name. "Oswald" was the reply. Then she took from her neck a beautiful crucifix of gold, chastely and tastefully engraved, and to which was attached a gold chain. This chain she put around his neck, depositing the crucifix in his bosom. Then she removed his cap from his head, displaying a profusion of curly locks, saying as she did so, "God bless thee, my son!" Next she turned to the other children, inquiring their names, and kissing and blessing them also. This done, she turned from them, and stood gazing upon the castle in the distance for a minute or two; then, as abruptly as she came, she disappeared in the wood, and was seen no more. The children hastened home to show to their parents the beautiful crucifix the stranger woman had given them, and to relate the strange incident. Oswald pondered over the matter a long time, but with the strange obtuseness which had marked the whole of his intercourse with the beautiful Saxon, Ethel, he was utterly unable to identify the strange visitant with any one he had known or remembered. A shade of sorrow and sadness passed over Alice's face; and a tear trembled on her eyelid, and fell unobserved to the ground. But she hinted not at the personality of the stranger, though she understood the sad mystery, and comprehended the tragedy which had been slowly and painfully enacted through the years, in which a noble and virtuous woman's love had been crucified.
[1]Peter's pence.
[1]Peter's pence.
[2]Messengers.
[2]Messengers.
[3]Witch.
[3]Witch.
[4]Apparition.
[4]Apparition.
[5]It was a Norse superstition that if the blood flowed, more would soon be shed.
[5]It was a Norse superstition that if the blood flowed, more would soon be shed.
[6]The foe hater.
[6]The foe hater.
[7]Imprecation pole.
[7]Imprecation pole.
[8]Cold-hearted.
[8]Cold-hearted.
[9]Coward.
[9]Coward.
[10]Race of gods.
[10]Race of gods.
[11]Lantern.
[11]Lantern.
[12]The dead were fitted with Hel-shoes.
[12]The dead were fitted with Hel-shoes.
[13]Ruler of man-slaying.
[13]Ruler of man-slaying.
[14]fabled Hawk.
[14]fabled Hawk.
[15]Witch.
[15]Witch.
[16]William's favourite oath.
[16]William's favourite oath.
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