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

by Frank Cowper

The force left to defend the stockade amounted to not more than a hundred men. There was a large number of boys, but they could be of little use in a hand-to-hand encounter, and Ceolwulf turned it over in his mind whether it would not be better to leave them outside under Wulfstan; they had shown such talents for annoying the enemy without themselves receiving any damage, and they were so perfectly at home in the intricate paths and rough tracks, over the hills and through the woods, that he thought it would be wisest to send them outside, they might thus escape the destruction which was sure to await those in the stockade, and might create a useful diversion by stoning the enemy from the cover of the woods, for in running they could outstrip most men, and knew the land well.

Full of these anxious thoughts Ceolwulf had been meditatively leaning, with his head on his hands looking dreamily over the parapet of the stockade. The stockade from this point commanded a view, through a gap in the trees, where the land fell abruptly to a wooded dell below, of the distant sea to the east of the island, and consequently towards Selsea. The sun was getting low in the heavens, but his rays were still bright; and the light shone full on the far-distant line of downs beyond Cissanceaster. Ceolwulf had been gazing vaguely in this direction for some time, in the see-nothing sort of way in which men look intently at objects without in the least grasping their reality.

"Why, Biggun, old man," called Beornwulf, who, now that he was thoroughly rested, and had had a good dinner, felt equal to anything, "What art thou looking so hard for? that is not where Arwald will come from;" and, as he spoke, he got up on to the platform by his side, but not looking in the same direction as Ceolwulf. Glancing up at the sky, he said, "I think the breeze is drawing more from the north again. We can't make another beacon fire for Arwald, can we?" Then he turned round and looked out towards the sea, and in another second shouted, "There's a fleet coming this way! Look at that dark patch on the water, half-way between Selsea and us."

Ceolwulf looked, and instantly perceived that he had been gazing at this object for some time, but had never given it a thought.

There was no doubt about it. That dark patch, with here and there a brighter speck in the midst of it, was a flotilla, and the brighter specks were sails.

It was Cædwalla coming to save them.

But would he—could he arrive in time? Other eyes must have seen the flotilla too. Arwald would never allow the invaders to land without crushing the rebels first; and the flotilla could not, under the most favourable circumstances, reach Brædynge haven before two or three hours, and then they would have to disembark and march three miles before they could help them; and in four hours there might not be a man alive in the stockade.

At this moment Stuff rushed up, shouting that Arwald had crossed the Yare with more men than ever, and was advancing upon the stockade.

"Well, then, that puts an end to all my doubts," said Ceolwulf. "Wulf, do thou take the boys outside. Thou art a sharp lad. Send two or three down to the point at the entrance to the haven. Tell them to light a fire there, and as soon as they can, let them tell Cædwalla where we are, and bid him hasten to our help. Anyhow," muttered Ceolwulf, "he will avenge us on Arwald, and the eorldoman Ælfhere will be saved, and the boy too. If that happens, what matters it what becomes of an old man like me?"

So saying, the old Wihtwara got down off the platform and prepared to give the final directions before the last decisive struggle began. It was now about an hour before sunset. Why Arwald had not attacked sooner he could not understand; and he argued that he would not have attacked now had he not seen the flotilla, from which he concluded that all the reinforcements had not reached him, or that there had been some accident. Ceolwulf directed Wulfstan to go outside at once, bidding him be sure to do nothing rashly, but make his way down to the shore, and, above all things, keep out of Arwald's way.