Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune

  CHAPTER XI. THE GLEEMAN.

  It was a low dungeon, built of that brick which we still recognise asof Roman manufacture, in the foundations of what had been the easterntower of the ancient fortification. The old pile had been badlypreserved by the Saxon conquerors, but it had been built of that solidarchitecture which seems almost to defy the assaults of time, andwhich in some cases, after fifteen centuries, preserves all itscharacteristics, and promises yet to preserve them, when our frailererections lie crumbled in the dust.

  The roof was semicircular, and composed of minute bricks, seeming toform one solid mass; the floor of tiling, arranged in patterns, whichcould still be obscurely traced by the light of the lamp left by thecharity of Sidroc to the prisoner; for the dungeon was of badreputation; lights had been seen there at unearthly hours, when theouter door was fast and no inmate existed.

  There were two long narrow windows at the end, unbarred, for they weretoo small for the human body to pass through them; they looked uponthe valley and, river beneath, for although the dungeon was below thelevel of the courtyard, it was above that of the neighbourhood.

  The prisoner strode up and down the limited area, wrestling with self,bending the will by prayer to submit to ignominy and pain, for he knewnow that his father had abandoned him, and that he had to apprehendthe worst; still he did not regret the choice he had made, and hefelt, as he prayed, peace and confidence descend like heavenly dewupon his soul. Mechanically he cast his eyes around the cell, andtried to trace out the pattern of the flooring, when he saw that thecentral figure, around which the circles and squares converged, wasjustice, with the scales, and the motto, "Fiat justitia." He knew themeaning of the words, for Father Cuthbert had taught him some Latin,and the conviction flashed upon him that, sooner or later, all thewrong and evil about him would be righted by the power of a judge asomnipotent as unerring. And this thought made him the more reconciledto the apparent injustice of which he was the victim, and he prayedfor his father, that God would enlighten him with the true light.

  "Perhaps before he dies he may yet think of me without shame."

  For the shame which he unwillingly brought upon a father who wasstern, yet not unkind or void of parental love, was the bitterestingredient in the cup.

  And so the hours rolled on, which brought the dreaded morn nearer andnearer; and the victim, comforted by prayer, but without hope in thisworld, slept, and thought no longer of the torturer's knife, or feltthe cruel anticipations which would rack the waiting mind.

  And while he slept he was wakened, yet but partly wakened, by a voicewhich seemed to belong to the borderland 'twixt sleep and waking.

  "Alfgar, son of Anlaf, sleepest thou?"

  "Surely I dream," thought he, and strove to sleep again.

  "Alfgar, son of Anlaf, sleepest thou?"

  Now he sat up, and beheld, or thought he beheld, a figure of oneclothed in the attire of a minstrel, in the centre of the chamber.

  "Art thou yet in the flesh like me?" he cried, repressing a shudder.

  "Even so, a being of like mould, subject to pain and death."

  "A prisoner, then; art doomed to die?"

  "No prisoner, neither art thou, if thou willest to escape."

  "Thou art the gleeman who insulted Sweyn."

  "Nay, who told the brutal tyrant the truth."

  "And what doest thou here?"

  "I am come to deliver thee."

  "But how?"

  "Rise up, cast on your garments."

  Hardly knowing what he did, Alfgar obeyed, and when he stood face toface with the stranger, began to lose the uneasy impression that thebeing who addressed him was otherwise than mortal; for he saw by thelight of the lamp that the gleeman bore all the attributes of a livingman.

  "How came you here?"

  "Because I know the secrets of the prison house--knew them before theDanes had murdered the once happy dwellers in this garden of England,which they have made a howling wilderness; hence I escaped the wrathof the furious parricide, whom the saints destroy, with ease, andlaughed in security at their vain efforts to take me; but we mustwaste no time; it yet wants five hours to daybreak; within those fivehours we must reach the opposite shore."

  "But tell me, I cannot understand, why hast thou braved the wrath ofSweyn? why hast thou cared for me?"

  "All in good time, follow me now, I bid thee by the memory ofAescendune."

  "Aescendune! surely I dream."

  "Yes, of Aescendune. I have heard that thou art thence. Now waste nomore time."

  More and more mystified, for he had never to his knowledge seen thespeaker before, Alfgar gazed at the gleeman.

  He appeared of noble air and mien, but was evidently but a young man;he was somewhat above the average height, and looked as though hecould wield the sword as well as the harp. But how were they toescape?

  Alfgar was not left long in doubt. The stranger took up the lamp andwalked to the farthest recess of the dungeon, where, concealed amongstthe rude carvings with which the builders had ornamented the wall, wasa rose carved in stone. The gleeman pressed it sharply, and a hiddendoor sprang open, revealing a winding staircase excavated in the solidwall.

  "Upwards it leads to the banqueting hall, and you can comprehend myescape this evening," said he; "but our path is now downwards, unlessyou would like to go up and see the drunken beasts of murdererssnoring off their debauch upon the floor as they fell; oh, that itwere lawful for a Christian man to cut their throats as they lie; manyinnocent lives would be saved thereby, which those brutes will live todestroy."

  "Thou art, then, a Christian?"

  The gleeman crossed himself piously.

  "Why not?" said he.

  "I heard you sing like a scald tonight."

  "It was my part, and I acted it passing well, did I not? Sweyn wouldown as much; but, pardon me, I am forgetting that my daring put you indanger."

  "How did you know that?"

  "I heard every word; and perhaps I might even have risked more thanthis to save you."

  Meanwhile they had descended nearly a hundred steps, and theatmosphere became singularly cold and charnel-like, when they entereda large vault, which, by the light of their torches, appeared of greatextent. Its walls were covered with uncouth representations, andinscriptions in Latin.

  "What place is this?"

  "It had some connection, I believe, with the old idolatry, and that isall I know. This passage will guide us to daylight and liberty."

  Following a short and narrow passage, they emerged upon a ruinedvault, whose roof had fallen in. Climbing out with some difficulty,and disturbing in the process hundreds of bat-mice and not a few rats,they found themselves in the midst of some old ruins at the foot ofthe acclivity whereon the fortress was built, and below them the brookran rapidly to join the river.

  "Thanks be to God for our preservation in that den of unclean lions!"said the gleeman; "but had they known who was amongst them, he wouldhave had scant chance of escape."

  "May I not know?"

  "Not yet. Come, we must waste no more time."

  They walked swiftly down the brook. No sentinels were posted in thisdirection, nor was any lookout kept.

  "The danger is yet to come," said the gleeman, in a low tone.

  Shortly they reached the river, and then they found a boat hidden inthe rushes, which grew tall and strong. They embarked, and Alfgarsteered, by the other's direction, straight down the stream, while herowed for full an hour with remarkable strength and dexterity, so thatthey drew near the coast, and the cold air from the sea blew inAlfgar's face.

  Here the gleeman ceased rowing, and spoke to him in a low tone.

  "Do you see those dark figures ahead?"

  "I do."

  "Well, they are the Danish war ships, and our hour of peril drawsnear. We must drop down with the tide, which is running out strongly,and I must steer. You can row, I suppose?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, get the oars ready to pull for your life, if I give the word,
but not till then. Now silence."

  In perfect silence they drifted down upon the ships. Happily for themthere was no moon, and although the stars were bright, there waslittle danger that their dark-painted bark would be seen at anydistance.

  One great mass after another seemed to float by them; but it was thedead hour of the night, and no sounds were heard from the sleepingcrews. They kept lax watch, because they had no foe to dread. Therewas, alas! no English fleet.

  One after another, until they had drifted into the centre of thefleet, where discovery must have been instant death. There above themrose the "Great Dragon," in all her hideous beauty, the gilded serpentreposing on the placid waves. Her people, even at that untimely hour,were engaged in revelry, and as they passed by the fugitives heard thewords:

  "Now the warrior's cup of joy was full,When he drank the blood of his foe,Where the slain lay thick on the gory hill,And torrents of blood from every rillreddened the river below,For Odin's hall is the Northman's heaven--"

  But they heard no more, for they had drifted beyond hearing.

  They had now attained the last ship, when suddenly a watchman sprangto the side.

  "Boat ahoy! Whence and where?"

  "From the 'Great Dragon'--a poor gleeman and his attendant to his homeon the shore."

  "Come on board then, and wake us with a song. The watch is ours, andwe will make it merry."

  There was no help for it; and commending courage with a significantlook to his companion, the gleeman and Alfgar ascended. It was yetdark, and the language and appearance of each might pass tolerablyunder ordinary circumstances for the characters they had assumed.

  "Now a song, and we will keep it up till daylight."

  Thus pressed, the gleeman took his harp and sang an old Scandinaviansong of the first sea king who invaded England, Ragnar Lodbrok.

  He told how the fierce Ragnar sailed for England, how his fleet waswrecked, but still how, with the relics of his forces, he assaultedNorthumbria, and was taken captive by Ella the king, who threw himinto a hole filled with vipers and toads.

  "Sharp the adder's tooth, but sharperSpake the sea king to his foes,Spake while savage brows grew darker,As he told the countless woesWhich the bear's fierce cubs should bringTo those who slew their father and their king."

  Then he described the retribution, and the lingering death of Ellaunder the agonies of the "rista oern" so vividly, that every Danishheart was filled with emulation.

  "Well sung!" shouted the Danes. "Thou dost sing a song worth hearing.Hast not taught thy son to sing likewise?"

  In turn Alfgar was forced to support his assumed character. Luckilyhis tenacious memory retained the words of many an old song, and thewarriors were well pleased.

  "Why must thou go to shore? We will feed and guerdon thee well if thouwilt stay with us."

  "We are aweary now, and would fain return to our comrades on theshore, but we will return by and by."

  "Do so, here is thy reward;" and one of the speakers threw a goldchain round the gleeman's neck. Gold was plentiful with the robbers.

  They were allowed to return to their boat; but as they did so, many akeen eye was fixed upon them. The dawn was already beginning to appearin the east, and every moment was of importance.

  "Thou hast borne the test well," said the gleeman, "and hast notflinched."

  "I could not in your presence."

  At this moment they heard the rapid splash of a boat, manned by manyrowers, behind, and a voice shouted aloud to the men on board the shipthey had left:

  "Hast seen a boat with a gleeman and harp bearer?"

  "They have just left the ship."

  "Follow; they are English spies. Sweyn will give the weight of theirheads in red gold."

  Instantly they heard the sound of hurried voices, the lowering ofboats, the splash of numerous oars, and all nearly close behind them.They took an oar each, and pulled with all the energy of men who pullfor life or death.

  The light was gradually growing stronger, and their chance of escapeseemed feeble, when Alfgar saw before them a dense cloud of mistrolling round the eastern promontory, and uttered a cry of joy as itenfolded them.

  "The wind is east, keep it on your right cheek, and steer straightforward. I will take both oars," said the gleeman.

  It was wonderful with what energetic force and success the gleemanpulled until they had cleared the mist, and saw that they were in thered light of dawn, in the midst of the Solent.

  One half-mile behind them a solitary boat pursued. There appeared tobe only five men, four rowing and one steering. Other boats therewere, but wide of the mark.

  "Alfgar," said the gleeman, "you will find a quiver of arrows and along bow at the bottom of the boat behind you."

  Alfgar handed them to him.

  "The points are passing sharp, and the bow is in order; take your turnto row."

  Alfgar obeyed; he could not do otherwise, the gleeman's tone ofcommand was so powerful, but he feared they would loss time by thechange.

  "You need not hurry yourself; let them approach. They are not likelyto have brought other weapons than their swords and axes."

  The boat gained on them rapidly, until it was within a hundred andfifty yards.

  "Keep just this distance if you can," said the gleeman, and drew anarrow suddenly to its head; it whistled through the air, and thesteersman, transfixed, rose, leapt in the boat, and fell in the sea acorpse.

  "Gone to seek oysters for King Sweyn's table, I suppose," said thegleeman.

  Another steersman promptly took the place, but some yards were lost bythe pursuers.

  "Slacken, we are too far for accurate aim; and we English must notdisgrace ourselves in Danish eyes."

  They slackened, another arrow sped, and the foremost rower fell.Evidently the Danes had no means of reply.

  "Slacken yet more;" and before the pursuers could recover theirconfusion, a third fell, then a fourth, before the unerring shafts.The fifth was at the fearful gleeman's mercy, but he restrainedhimself, now danger had vanished.

  But as he did so he cried aloud:

  "Dane, we give thee thy life, blood sucker though thou art. Go, andtell King Sweyn that Edmund {viii} the Etheling, son of Ethelredof England, has been his gleeman, and hopes he enjoyed the song whichtold the doom of parricides."