CHAPTER V.
DESPERATE RESOLVES.
"Cowards die many times before their death The valiant never taste of death but once."
Shakespeare.
"The Saxon cause is lost, Wulfhere, by base-hearted cowardice andtreachery," said Oswald, turning to the stalwart "freeman" alreadyintroduced to the reader. "Look to the rear, though I think the Normanshave had such a taste of our quality that there will be no pursuit forthe present; but henceforth we may look to it, for there will be--unlessI greatly misjudge the Norman king--a bitter revenge exacted from us,and untempered in the least degree by mercy. We have our broadswordsleft to us, and we have proved this day that they have a keen edge andbite as sharp as ever. We have a few bowmen, also, who can shootstraight; but for our shelter I fear me we shall have but the denseforest, and the rugged hills of our native Craven for our defence. Butthey are a defence familiar to us, and no battering-ram or assault ofbesiegers will avail our foe. Let them drive the wolf to bay if theydare, and they shall find he has sharp teeth. Well, to me, Wulfhere, alife of valorous freedom is better than servile slavery and degradedserfdom."
"I join you there, my lord. A ceorl born, a ceorl for ever. That is mycharter. I will maintain it to the death," said Wulfhere.
The conclusions of Oswald, with regard to the revenge which the Normanswould exact, proved only too true. Like a conflagration, the sanguinary,mercenary host spread themselves over the northern part of the kingdom,and desolation and death spread their ghastly wings over the land.William's aim evidently was to decimate the population, and thus makeany further revolt utterly impossible.
I forbear, however, to enter into the details of the wholesale slaughterwhich followed after the Saxons were put to the rout at York, in mercyto the reader.
So, at the word of command, the followers of Oswald moved away from thefatal field, with celerity, but in perfect order. The close of thesecond day brought them home again. Bitterly sad our hearts were at thetidings they brought us, and at sight of the thinned ranks of stout andhardy yeomen who went out from us on this last desperate venture. TheEarl addressed the following words to them, as we stood together in themonastery grounds: "My trusty followers, my faithful friends,--We haveprobably not more than forty-eight hours before we shall be face to faceagain with the hated Norman foe--on our own lands, and at the thresholdsof our own homes. Do not let us, because of this short respite, closeour eyes to what will inevitably follow. Neither age nor sex will bespared, though we should crawl at their feet, and grovel in the dust.The only thing these Normans will respect is the broadsword, as itflashes at their breast, or the arrow, glancing unerringly through thebranches of the trees in the forest fastnesses. I advise you to take tothe hills; the caves will form in some respects a shelter for your wivesand little ones. Carry your cattle along with you to the hills andmountain gorges. Your corn, your cooking utensils--in short, everythingof value and of service--take along with you. There are men here fromevery corner of our domain. Tell your neighbours, and make haste; eventhe minutes are precious. I shall contrive, if I live, to protect youfor the present, and until my castle is taken you will be absolutelysafe."
As the men moved slowly away to their homes in the distant hamlets,bearers of the sorrowful news, the Earl turned to Wulfhere.
"Well, Wulfhere, my resolve is taken. I shall not cower before, orservilely beg for freedom at the hands of the proudest Norman of themall. Further, I shall not fly over sea, and sell my sword to a foreignpotentate. Yonder, in the distance, I can descry the turrets of mycastle. I was born there, and I shall defend it to the last; and whendriven from it, it will still be a joy to sit on the hillsides and gazeupon the old home. There are likewise these followers of mine, who havefollowed me everywhere and blindly done my bidding. It were dastardlyconduct to give them over now to sanguinary massacre. When, as a boy,with falcon on my arm and hound at my heel, I hied me o'er these lands,my faithful yeomen welcomed me everywhere, and their good wives broughtout their daintiest morsel and their sweetest mead. We shall stand orfall together. Who knows? The Saxon star may some day be in theascendant again, and we may push the Normans from our shores. Whatsayest thou, Wulfhere?"
"Your purpose, my lord, if I understand you aright, is to defend thecastle so long as you can, and then try to hold the Normans at bay bymeans of the shelter which the woods and the hills afford."
"That is my present purpose. I can scarcely hope to hold the castle,except for a little while, but I may thus materially check thedesolating march of the Normans. But ultimately I look to the woods andthe hills for permanent safety. We are more fortunate than ourcountrymen in other parts of the kingdom. If we look to the north we seethe stately Hanging-brow mountain, lifting itself to the sky and girdledwith the clouds, and those dense woods, which, like a vast armyclambering up its sides, will fight for us in our onslaught, and shieldus in our flight. The waters also shed on its brow by the clouds whichnestle well-nigh perpetually on its shoulders, and go leaping down itssides with the fierceness of a cataract, have ploughed into themountain's seamy sides gorges impassable to untrained feet. Look, to theeast a few miles we have the scarcely less remarkable Weirdburn hills.To the south, Baldby heights. Think also of the dense woods whicheverywhere abound in this Craven of ours. Then, like myself, you willsee that in no other part of the land has Nature so combined to shelterthe friendless and protect the oppressed. Further, we are quite twohundred and fifty miles from London. Though the Normans will come verysurely to despoil the land, William will speedily draw off his forces,and we shall have but to cope with the Norman who usurps my lands andcastle, holding it probably with a slender garrison. For the present weare unequal to the task of contending in open warfare with our foe. Wewill contend with him with the most effective weapons we possess; andthese are cunning and evasion. There shall be no solid front presentedto him at which he can aim an effective blow. But when the Normans haveoverrun the land, and the bulk of them gone hence, then we will presenta bolder front, and assert our right to share the land, and cultivatethe soil."
"What do you purpose in this dire emergency, reverend Father?" said he,turning to me. "Have you any purpose of defending the Abbey?"
"No, my lord," said I; "we are the disciples of the Prince of Peace, andwe must follow His example. And indeed, carnal weapons would not protectus if we were minded to use them, and this sacred edifice would sufferirreparably by our resistance. Perhaps these untamed and bloody men mayhave some regard for the sanctity of these walls. We will throw open ourgates to receive them. Those of our servants and followers who prefer totrust to the woods and the hills, as you advise, are free to do so.Those who prefer to stay--together with any unhappy fugitives who havefled hither for shelter--will join the monks in prayers andsupplications, in the sanctuary. Perhaps God will give us favour in theeyes of our enemies."
"Give us your blessing, Father," said Oswald, falling on his knees andmeekly uncovering his head, all his followers humbly following hisexample.
"Adieu, my son," said I, laying my hand upon his head. "May the God ofour fathers nerve thy arm for the protection of thy humbler fellows, andgive thee wisdom and discretion in this terrible day of thy country'svisitation!"
With tearful eyes I watched the receding form of this noble Saxon. Nocarnal offspring could be dearer to an earthly parent than he to me. Ihad watched over him from infancy, educated him, travelled with him inmany foreign lands; and I hoped he would be a great leader instatesmanship, in learning, and in all the arts of peace. Now, alas! Ifear circumstance will make him a man of war, and a stern leader ofbloody and desperate men.