"If ye boys had had a quarter of your young lord's pluck ye would never have let him be hurt, much less taken. Could none of ye have tried to save the boy who fell, instead of letting your young lord do it? And could none of ye have got in the way of the knave who gave him this wound? Ah! I am ashamed of ye all! Ye are a set of cowardly do-nothings; and what a chance ye have let slip; it doesn't happen to a boy every day; no, nor once in a year in these more peaceful times—it's true we have had a little more life lately—(by which Ceolwulf meant death)—for a boy, I say, to have the good luck to get killed for his lord, and here with this chance before ye, not one of ye had the sense or the gratitude to take it. Ugh! get along with ye all for a pack of skulking foxes."
The upbraidings of Ceolwulf caused many of the boys to hang their heads, and several reproached themselves for not having got killed instead of Wulfstan. However, there was no help for it now, and all stood round looking at the pale and noble features of the senseless boy. His fair hair fell back round his face in waving locks, his eyes were shut, and the pallor of his cheeks, usually so full of colour and health, was very ominous. Ceolwulf raised his head on his knee and bandaged the cut as well as he could, telling the boys to get him some salt water from the sea.
"Shall I go and find old Deva and the bald-headed man?" suggested one of the boys.
"Ay, my son, that's the best thing thou canst do, and the sooner thou bringest them the better, for we shall have work enough to occupy us all soon. Which of ye knows the way?"
"I do," and "I do," resounded from all sides, and Ceolwulf chose the sharpest-looking of the lads, and sent off three of them, telling them to inform Malachi, or "the bald-headed one," of what had happened, but on no account to alarm Ælfhere, the eorldoman.
Away the boys darted, and were soon lost in the darkness. Ceolwulf continued to bathe the wound, watching anxiously for some return of consciousness; but the heavy lids remained shut, and the breathing seemed to grow weaker.
"Ah! Wulfstan, my dear young lord, hadst thou only stayed at Boseham with Ædric all would have been well. To think of the fights I have been through and my life worth nothing, and this boy, the joy of his father, and born to be an eorl and Heretoga, if ever there was one, to die before he is twelve years old!" and old Ceolwulf groaned bitterly. "How beautiful the lad is!" he went on. "Surely neither Baldur, nor Woden, nor Thor, could have looked handsomer; but Baldur died. Ah! yes, beauty is what death loves, and so Baldur died young."
While Ceolwulf was thus mourning over Wulfstan he forgot all about surrounding objects, and was suddenly startled into consciousness of this world and the present by a boy running up to him and saying, breathlessly:
"Master Biggun, here's some boats come ashore at yonder point, and there's a sight of people getting out."
"Why, whatever am I doing? I'm forgetting everything. Here, one of ye boys, run down and show the people the best way up; ask them, for some one will show thee—no, that won't do. Tell the first man thou seest that old Ceolwulf, who fought at Cissanceaster along with Cædwalla, is here, and wants help. Now, off with thee; what art thou waiting for?"