Cædwalla; or, The Saxons in the Isle of Wight: A Tale

by Frank Cowper

Suddenly one of Athelhune's men pointed to a spot far down below, on the southern side of the hill; a cloud of dust was driving before the south-westerly breeze; instantly Athelhune knew it must be the enemy; waiting one moment to take in the situation, he saw how perilous was their position. Not knowing the country, he had been ignorant that there was another road by which Arwald might come, and the guide, with the stolidity of a dull-witted Wihtwara, had never told him. The advancing cloud of dust was on a level with Athelhune, and he saw that it would be a race who should reach the homestead first. Mortified at the failure of his reconnaissance, and the imminent danger all would necessarily incur, he promptly made up his mind. Sending off the fastest runner of his men to tell the Atheling Wulf, Athelhune determined to descend the hill diagonally, and attempt a diversion in flank before the enemy should be aware of his proximity. Hastily calling to his men, he started at a rapid pace down the hill. There was not much more than half a mile between himself and the enemy, and he directed all his efforts to getting, if possible, to a clump of bushes which lay directly in the march of the advancing column. He hoped to be able to reach this unperceived, and then, by a well-timed rush, to throw the enemy into confusion, after which his men would all hasten back as fast as possible to join the Atheling Wulf. Full of this hope he urged his men to greater speed, and they were fortunately concealed from their foes by the cloud of dust which was carried towards them by the breeze.

Athelhune had with him about twenty men, all Wihtwaras, active men enough, but not well armed. However, he trusted more to their sudden rush, and unexpected appearance, for gaining his object, than to any real execution they could inflict on Arwald's men.

They had now reached the clump of gorse and thorns, where Athelhune rapidly explained what he intended to do, and impressed upon them the absolute necessity of the rush being simultaneous, determined, and rapid, and pointed out to the men that in this way only could their lives be saved. There was no time for more, already through the dusty veil the glint of spears and flash of armour could be seen, and a serried troop of horsemen came directly towards the clump of gorse behind which the little band was crouching. Athelhune could see that the advancing force was a strong one, the leading horsemen were all well armed, powerful men, and were evidently the most important eorldomen and chief ceorls in the island; the descendants of Whitgar, Stuffa, and their followers, who nearly two hundred years before had come to Cerdicsford, the modern Yarmouth, to help Cerdic. Among them rode Arwald himself, a powerful, thickset man, with bushy black beard, and coarse features, burly in form, and brutal in expression. He was clad in a loose mail shirt, his muscular arms were bare, and on his thick bushy hair he wore an iron helmet, adorned with the large wings of a heron. Behind him was slung a spear; at his saddle hung a huge two-edged axe, and a straight sword was suspended at his left hip by a chain across his right shoulder. He was laughing loudly at some jest of his own, and all were evidently in high spirits. Behind him was a body of some four hundred men, but all were not well armed, and very few were mounted.

Nearer and nearer the column advanced, in the confidence of their strength; and despising the numbers of their opponents, no scouts had been sent out, and all were marching at ease, and as if in a friendly country.

The leading files had passed the clump. Athelhune could hear Arwald saying, "By the golden hair of Freya, but we won't spare a man, woman, or child, this time."

Then Athelhune gave the signal quietly to his men.

Instantly with a wild yell the whole twenty men sprang up, clashing their arms, and rushing upon the column not more than ten yards from them. Athelhune had ordered them to strike first at the horses, and then, when the riders were down, if time were left, to attack the riders. In between the first and second ranks Athelhune forced his way, striking furiously at the hind legs of the horses of the leading rank, and the forelegs of the horses of the rank behind. He was ably supported by his followers, who plunged in behind him. The confusion and uproar were terrific; the frightened horses reared, plunged, and neighed horribly with pain, many came down bringing their riders with them, and in some few instances crushing their assailants in their fall. The horses of the front rank sprang madly forward, and such as had been hamstrung, struggled wildly with their forelegs, and then sank helplessly down. Many of them that had only received slanting slashes and had had no tendons severed, galloped madly away, in most cases throwing their riders at the first plunge. Hitherto the attack had been very successful, fortune, as usual, favouring the bold. Arwald had been one of those whose horse had fallen, and that burly chieftain had come heavily to the ground; but the fall of his horse had also saved his life, for Athelhune, determining to kill him, if possible, before they retreated, aimed a terrific blow at the Wihtwara's head, but the wounded horse at the same moment gave one despairing plunge, and kicking violently with its hind leg, it happened to strike Athelhune and break his leg with the force of the blow; seeing their leader fall, the few men who were behind him shouted to the others to escape while there was yet time, and such as were able to do so, extricated themselves from the plunging, writhing, mass of men and horses, and sped away towards the homestead. The success of this desperate onslaught was dearly purchased by the fall of Athelhune; it was true the onward march of Arwald and his men was delayed some few moments, and much damage was done to the horses, while some two or three of the men had been killed outright, and about ten more seriously wounded, either by cuts from the axes, or by bruises from their falls, several having had their legs broken by their falling horses; but the attacking party had also suffered severely, some having been crushed under the horses, and others having been kicked by the affrighted animals, as Athelhune had been. So that the sum total of the success of this act of devotion on the part of the West Saxon chieftain was the giving time for Wulf the Atheling to form his men, and evacuate the homestead, and the death or putting hors de combat of some dozen of their enemy. But these advantages were more than counterbalanced by the capture of Athelhune, and the desperate feeling of furious wrath now doubly aroused in the fierce Arwald.

Rising from the ground with difficulty, the chief of the Wihtwaras looked a truly awful spectacle. He was covered with blood; not that he had received any wound, but the blood from his fallen horse had flowed copiously over him as he lay on the ground. His eyes were red and fiery, like the wicked eyes of a furious wild boar. His first thought was to dash out the brains of his helpless assailant as he lay on the ground; but while watching his opportunity, for the struggling mass all round rendered a certain blow a matter of difficulty, a cruel thought crossed his mind, and he determined to spare Athelhune's life for the present. By this time the confusion had become a little less wild. The loud voice of Arwald shouted directions to the eorls who were nearest him, and in a little while something like order was restored. The mounted men were drawn up on one side, and the infantry were ordered to march past and then form up beyond, and halt until the casualties were counted up and fresh dispositions made. Athelhune was not forgotten. Arwald with a wicked light in his eye, had him seized by two fierce-looking Wihtwaras, and strict orders were given them to answer for him with their lives. It was found that fifteen horses were incapacitated or missing, and twelve men, among whom were five eorldomen and three ceorls of importance. More furious than ever, and burning to come to close quarters with Ælfhere's men, Arwald gave the order for the column to advance, but this time he took the precaution to send out some of the horsemen on either flank to act as scouts, and a small body some distance ahead as an advance guard. Arwald himself took the best horse he could find among those left, and the eorldoman who was thus compelled to give up his animal contented himself by taking another from one of the ceorls, who had to become a foot soldier, and was naturally very sulky in consequence. The whole episode, which has taken so many words, to describe, really only occupied a quarter of an hour but every moment was of importance, and the march was pressed on more rapidly to make up for lost time. In a few minutes more the advanced guard turned the foot of the hill, and came in sight of Ælfhere's house. At the same moment Wulf's men were descried hastening down to the ford, which was fast becoming impassable, owing to the rapidly rising tide. All the fugitives from Athelhune's force had not yet reached him, nor had all the tenants and dependants of Ælfhere yet got across the Yare. The news of the sudden approach of Arwald had caused the greatest consternation among these poor people, and all were hurrying down to get over the ford before it was too late. The position of affairs was at once reported to Arwald, who galloped up instantly to inspect the situation, giving orders for the rest of his men to come on at the double. With the quick glance of an experienced warrior, he decided that they must attack at once. He gave his men no rest, therefore, until he had brought them down to within a short distance of Wulf's men, who had not yet been able to cross the Yare, blocked as the ford was with fugitives.

Wulf, the Atheling, now that he saw his own supineness was likely to cause a great catastrophe, did all he could to remedy the evil. He drew up his men in the best way he could, and determined to stand on the defensive, for he saw that with so powerful a force within striking distance of him, if once he attempted to retire, destruction would await him. There was one thing in his favour—his men were all fresh, while Arwald's people were tired with their long march.

Arwald halted his men as they came up, and gave them time to recover their breath, an ominous sign to Wulf, who, seeing how leisurely Arwald was now going to work, knew that his foe felt sure he had caught them in his toils. Their position was very critical, almost desperate. In front, was a powerful force of nearly four hundred men led by a determined and infuriated chief; behind them, was an impassable stream, and no succour to come to them. Seeing the desperate nature of their plight, Wulf thought he would try what a parley would do. He called, therefore, to Arwald, and invited him to settle the dispute by a single combat with himself, "for," he said, "these men are all kinsfolk. Why should they shed each other's blood?"