CHAPTER XX. THE MESSENGER FROM THE CAMP OF REFUGE.
A fortnight only had passed since the scenes described in our lastchapter, and we must again take our readers to Aescendune.
It was the hour of the evening meal in the castle hall where solately Hugo sat in his pride, and in his place sat his youthfulrival, Wilfred.
Scarcely of age, the vicissitudes of his life had made a man of himbefore his time, and a stranger would have credited him with manymore years than he really possessed. His face was bronzed with thesun, and his features had assumed all the appearance of earlymanhood, while there was a gravity in his expression befitting aborn leader of men, such as his warlike grandfather, Alfgar, hadbeen in the old Danish wars sixty years earlier.
The accustomed features of an English feast, as distinct from aNorman banquet, have been dwelt upon too often in these Chroniclesto need recapitulation here, and we shall only beg our readers tosuppose the eating over, the wine and mead handed round, and thebusiness of the evening begun.
The hall was crowded; all the ancient vassals of the house ofAescendune, who yet survived, were present, and many new faces. Bythe side of Wilfred sat a distinguished guest, an East Anglian, towhom all present paid much attention.
The occasion was one of much gravity; only that evening messengershad arrived, bringing the serious announcement that William themighty Conqueror, with a force said to be numerous as the leaves ofthe trees, was at hand, and the gathering had been assembled todiscuss the measures expedient in the common danger.
There was deep silence; the summer twilight alone illumined thegrave faces of the English guests and vassals of Aescendune, asWilfred arose to address them.
"Englishmen and brethren," he began, "we have not invited you allto share our evening meal on an occasion of idle ceremony--many ofyou have heard the news I have to tell, and more will anticipatethem. The usurper, the bloodstained oppressor of our race is athand; he rests this night at Warwick, with a force far exceedingany that we can gather to meet him; their lances might uphold theskies, their arrows darken the heavens. All the robber barons ofnote are there; the butcher priest Ode, who smote with the mace atHastings, because he might not shed blood, the fierce Lord ofOxford, the half Danish Harcourt, Arundel, Talbot, Maltravers,Peveril, Morton--all swell the train which has advanced to thedestruction of our faint hope of liberty in the Midlands, our trustthat at least old Mercia may defy the despoiler."
"Let us die, then, like brave men," was the cry of many, "since wecannot live as freemen."
"And shed our blood in vain, leaving the victory to the oppressors!Nay, we must live for another Senlac, which shall reverse the doomof the former. Leofric of Deeping, our guest from East Anglia, willtell you of one who yet defies Norman tyranny, with whom we mayunite, under whose banner victory may yet bless the old flag ofEngland."
Leofric rose, amidst cheers and demonstrations of applause,somewhat tempered by the gravity of the occasion; nay, a fewfaint-hearted churls said, "Let us hear what he has to proposebefore we cheer him."
"Has the name of Hereward, Lord of Brunn, yet reached your ears?"
A general shout of approbation replied, "Yes!"
"He it was who, while yet but a stripling, stirred up the people ofDover to drive the proud Eustace out of their town, in good KingEdward's time, when he slew with his own hands a French knight. Hefought by the side of our Harold when he tamed Griffith, thewildcat of Wales. He was in Flanders, to our great loss, when theNormans invaded England, and there he heard, with grief, of thedeath of our Harold and the slaughter at Senlac. Now, hearing thatmany brave men yet defy the tyrant in the Isle of Ely, protected byits bogs and marshes, he has accepted the invitation of the AbbotThurstan, and has hastened to return home and place himself attheir head. Three years have passed since Hastings, and yet Englandis unconquered; the Normans concentrate their force against Ely invain; Crowland, Spalding, and many other places are recovered, andthe Danes promise their assistance to deliver those who were theirbrethren under Canute from Norman tyranny.
"Therefore, in the name of the Lord of Brunn and the Abbot Thurstanof Ely, I invite you to repair thither, to take part in the greatstruggle so nobly begun for the deliverance of England from thehateful yoke."
There was a dead silence, broken at last by a voice:
"But might we not first strike a blow for our own poor homes?"
"That blow shall be struck in time, and in time not far off; butnow it would be a waste, and a sinful waste of English blood, justwhen every man is wanted. What can ye do against ten thousandNormans, out here in the open country? or what good can ye hope todo in the woods? Nay, come to the Camp of Refuge, the last retreatof England's noblest sons; there is the noble Archbishop Stigand,the faithful English prelate, who dared to defy the Conqueror tohis face; there the Bishops of Lincoln, Winchester, Durham, andLindisfarne, whose fair palaces are usurped by Norman intruders;there the patriotic Abbots of Glastonbury and St. Albans; therenobles, thanes--all who yet dare to hope for England's salvation;and thence shall the tide of victory return after the ebb, andsweep the Bastard and his Norman dogs into the sea. England shallbe England again, yea, to the latest generations."
Cheer upon cheer arose from the company; it was evident that theenvoy had gained his point. Wilfred now stood up.
"There are but two courses open to us, men of Aescendune--to returnto our haunts in the woods, to be hunted out in the next dry seasonlike vermin; the other, to repair to the Camp of Refuge. I, forone, have decided; I will no longer hide in the Dismal Swamp like abrock--I will accept the invitation of Abbot Thurstan, and live ordie by the side of the brave Hereward."
"And I," "and I," "and I."
"We cannot all go," said Wilfred; "some must remain to escort ourwomen and children to the woods, and to defend them there, if needbe, till the tide of victory, of which our guest has told us,reaches these parts. This task befits the oldest men amongst us;but let each man make his choice this evening, for by midnight allshould be settled, and we who go should be on our way to the east."
"And are we to leave Aescendune to the foe?"
"Nay, this accursed monument of Norman tyranny, this castle shallfall, the flames shall consume it this night, and we will giveevery house, barn, and stable to the flames also. The Normans shallfind poor lodgings for man and beast when they come tomorrow.Etienne, son of the murderer Hugo, shall enter upon a desolateheritage, and feed his horses with cinders.
"Haga, oldest retainer of our house, wilt thou take the command ofthose who remain? let them be thy children."
"I accept the charge," said the old man, and bowed his head.
"Now, who will remain with him in the woods, and who will go withme? Let those who would ride to the Camp of Refuge hold up theirhands on high."
"Ulf, Sexwulf, Tosti, Wulfgar, Ordgar,"--and so Wilfred went oncounting all the younger and more impetuous spirits on his side,his heart swelling with pardonable pride, as he thought he shouldnot go alone, or as a mere fugitive, to the help of the patrioticHereward.
But the aged men hung their heads; most of them had kindred--some awife, some children, and even amongst the younger there were thosewhose love to an aged parent kept them back; the ties of familywere ever strong in the English heart.
So there were, after all, only about a hundred gallant youths, whoelected to make the dangerous ride across the heart of England,Norman infested, with their young chieftain.
"A hundred such men will be a welcome addition to our numbers; fewthanes have joined us more worthily attended," said Leofric.
The meeting now broke up.
Great was the confusion in the village that night, and sad thepartings between friends and kinsfolk. All the beasts of burdenwere put in requisition; only a hundred of the choicest steedsreserved for the brave band who were to accompany their belovedlord to the Camp.
By midnight these steeds were laden, and all was ready for theexodus.
Then a dozen stern men bore brands of fire through the
village, andsoon every house burst into flames.
It was sad to see their homes burning; it seemed almost a crime toapply the torch; but each man thought it better far, than to leavethem for Normans to dwell in.
And soon a brighter blaze startled the neighbourhood--the castlecast its broad banner of flame to the heavens, and thick clouds ofsmoke blotted out the stars. Then the priory, the short-livedpriory, followed the lead of the castle, and the valley was lightas in broad day, while the river seemed to run with blood as itreflected the blaze.
And by the light two parties left the village in oppositedirections--the last farewells were spoken. Into the woods--gloomyand desolate, dimly lighted up by the glare, which filled theheavens, along the river, glowing as it reflected the blaze--intothe woods the two different parties took their way.
The one was led by Wilfred, and Leofric as guide, the other byHaga. And so the forest swallowed them up, and Aescendune knew themno more.
The fire burnt on, but none were there to heed it; tower andrampart came crashing down into the red ruins, but a few affrightedbirds were the only living witnesses of the doom of the proudbuilding, which Hugo had erected as the badge of the slavery of hisEnglish vassals.
Crash! crash! and the answer came from the priory; down fell thecastle towers, down fell the priory bell turrets. Norman count andNorman monk were alike homeless.
The morning sun rose brightly upon the devastation, the birdsresumed their matin songs, for it was a lovely morning in June; butas yet no human footfall broke the oppressive silence.
It was the early hour of summer sunrise, and the distant sound of aconvent bell varied the monotony of the scene, as it called thefaithful to prayer. A sudden sound, as of many riders ridingbriskly, and a band of lances--the avant garde of a mightyarmy--drew rein at the verge of the yawning and smoking furnacewhich had been the castle. There they paused abruptly, and one whoseemed almost overwhelmed by surprise and disappointment, gazed asif stupefied upon the wreck of his fortunes.
It was Etienne of Aescendune cum Malville.
As we have seen, the conflagration was yet at its heights whenWilfred of Aescendune and his hundred men left the scene, and tooktheir road to the east, along the reddened waters of the river.
It was not without the deepest sorrow, that the English heir thusabandoned his inheritance, but necessity left no choice; it wasplain that the force arrayed against him rendered resistancehopeless, and it was far better to go where his sword was likely tobe of use in the struggle for freedom than to hide in the woods, ashe said, "like a brock, until the dogs hunt it out."
And he had hope, too, that when it was discovered that he and hisbravest men had fled eastward, pursuit would be attracted in thatdirection, and the poor fugitives in the woods left unmolested, atleast for the present.
As they rode rapidly and silently along, they saw in the distance,with what bitter feelings may be imagined, the Norman castle ofWarwick, where at that moment the Conqueror himself was reposing,and where the Norman heir was perhaps counting the hours, untildaylight should arouse him to go and seize upon his inheritance.Onward they rode, conducted with the greatest skill and success bytheir guide from the Camp of Refuge, Leofric of Deeping, whoentertained them by the way, when circumstances permitted, by manya story about Hereward and his merry men, each one of whom he saidwas a match for three Normans, while Hereward would not turn hisback upon seven at once.
When the east grew red with the coming light they were traversingan immense tract of wild forest land, bright with the gorse, thenin flower, and tenanted only by myriads of rabbits; here they cameupon a grassy dell, with plenty of good grazing for their horses,and a clear stream running through the bottom.
"We shall scarce find a better place than this to rest," said theirguide; "I know the spot well. When a boy my grandfather lived inthat ruined farmhouse which you can see peeping through the trees;I remember I was just tall enough to look over yon wall."
"Is it in English hands now?" said Wilfred, anxiously.
"It is desolate--waste--ruined. The Normans butchered the inmateslong since, God knows why, save that they gave shelter to someproscribed fugitives, who were being hunted like wild beasts. Theywere not my own kinsfolk; by God's blessing my grandparents diedwhile Edward was yet alive. I often feel grateful that they did notlive to see these evil days."
They hobbled the horses, and took their own repast by the side ofthe stream. Each man had brought rations for two days with him, andthere was no lack.
Then, after carefully setting sentinels in each direction, theyslept under the shade of the trees. The moss was a delicious couch,the day was warm, and the murmur of the little stream, united tothe hum of the insects, lulled them to sleep.
It was not till after midday that Wilfred awoke. He found Leofricalready on foot, stretching himself after his nap.
"I am going to look at the old place," said he; "it stimulates myfeeling of hatred to the Normans. Will you come with me and seetheir work?"
They crossed two or three fields lying fallow--indeed, no hand ofman had been busy there for more than a year; soon they came uponthe blackened ruins of a house, of which, however, some portionshad escaped the general conflagration; upon which Leofric observed:
"This was the work of Ivo Taille-Bois {xxi}, a Normanwoodcutter, whom the duke has manufactured into a noble, and set totyrannise over free-born Englishmen. Like a fiend he ever loves todo evil, and when there is neither man, woman, nor child todestroy, he will lame cattle, drive them into the water, breaktheir backs, or otherwise destroy them."
"But does not William ever administer justice, according to theoath he swore at his coronation?"
"Not when the case is Englishman against Norman; then theseforeigners stick together like the scales on the dragon's back, oneoverlapping the other. But we must waste no more time; it is justpossible, although unlikely, owing to the unfrequented route wehave taken, that your old enemy may be upon our track, with fivehundred Norman horse to back him."
They rejoined their comrades, and all were soon again in thesaddle--horses and men alike refreshed by the halt; with greatknowledge of the country their guide led them by unfrequentedroutes towards the fenny country; in the distance they beheld thenewly rising castles, and heard from time to time an occasionaltrumpet; more frequently they passed ruined villages, burnt housesand farms, and saw on every side the evidence of the ferocity oftheir conquerors.
Nightfall came and still they continued their route; Leofricenlivening the way with many a tale of the exploits of the greathero, whom he looked upon with confidence as the future delivererof England.
At length they left the woods and entered, just as the east wasbrightening, into the level plains and marshes of East Anglia, andhere for the first time had reason to think they were pursued.
Looking back towards the deep shades of the woods they had left,they caught sight of a dark moving mass, which seemed pursuingthem; but even as they looked its movements became uncertain, andappeared to halt.
"The cowards fear to pursue us farther; they have a wholesome dreadof Hereward and his merry men, and we may embark in peace: we arenear an old manor house belonging to our great captain, and therewe may leave the horses in safety, satisfied no Norman will getthem--such is the terror of his name; then we will all take boatfor Ely."
The morning, the second of their journey, was already breakingacross a vast expanse of water and fenland, and the dawn wasempurpling the skies and making the waters glow like burnishedmetal; so beautiful was the scene that it seemed a happy omen toour tired wanderers.
The face of the country was level as the sea itself; no hillockvaried the monotony of the surface; but here and there some sailglistened in the glowing light; and afar off Leofric pointed outthe towers of Ely Abbey, white and distinct in the rays of therising sun, which, just then, rose grandly out of the waters.
They left their horses at the manor house, which was garrisoned byHereward's retainers, and broke their fast, gladdened by
anenthusiastic reception; hope was not yet dead here.
Afterwards, they all embarked in large flat-bottomed boats, whichwere sluggishly impelled, by oar and sail, towards the distanttowers of Ely.
The sweet fresh breeze, the cheerful warmth of the sun, soothed ourtravellers, wearied with their long night ride; the monotonoussplash of the oars assisted to lull them into sleep, oblivious ofpast fatigue. Wilfred awoke to find himself approaching the wharfof Ely.
And here our narrative must perforce leave him for the space of twoyears, sharing the fortunes of the famous Hereward, until the fallof the last refuge of English liberty: the events of those twoyears are matters of history {xxii}.