"See, the wild ravens there,
Woden's wild birds of air,
Call us to Nastrond's fare,
Call us to battle!"
shouted a warrior, whose eyes glowed with the joy of approaching fight.
"Hark to the wolves' wild cry,
Baying towards the sky,
Knowing the prey is nigh,
Hearing death's rattle!"
cried another answering, tossing his battle-axe high in the air, and catching it again; for every warrior who wished to be distinguished affected a talent for verse, and all leaders who desired fame surrounded themselves with "Skalds," or gleemen, as they were called, who should proclaim their doughty deeds.
Wulfstan longed to go with the expedition, but Cædwalla would not hear of it, and he was sent off with Beornwulf, both sulky at their dismissal, but Beornwulf especially enraged, and vowing vengeance on Ceolwulf when he got the chance.
"Never mind, Beorney, thou canst practice fighting with the monks, they won't hurt thee," shouted some of the young men.
"And thou canst throw stones at the seals, they won't run away," called another, as they went off laughing; while Beornwulf, grinding his teeth with rage, and having no retort ready, disappeared with Wulfstan in the direction of Boseham.
The others directed their march through the forest towards Cissanceaster, proceeding at a rapid pace; all noise had now ceased, and each man settled down to his step with the air of men accustomed to long expeditions, and who all knew their business thoroughly. Ceolwulf wished much his master Ælfhere had had a few dozen men like these the night before, and he hoped if he could only induce Cædwalla to take up the cause of his young lords, that they might recover their lands and revenge themselves on Arwald; he had seen therefore Wulfstan go off with Beornwulf less reluctantly than he otherwise would have done.
The sun had set, and the mists of the forest rendered it a difficult matter to see their way, but Cædwalla led them on without pausing or appearing to be once in doubt as to which way to go. After they had gone on in almost absolute silence for about a couple of miles they came to a circular clearing in the forest; in the centre of this clearing was a large stone, and Cædwalla went up to it, and, raising his battle-axe aloft, chanted the following verses:—
"To Woden, great god, I vow
Victims to slay enow
If he to us allow
Victory to-night.
Here in the forest glade,
Under the oaks' dark shade,
On my keen axe's blade,
Oaths do I plight.
By the last earthly pang
Men felt as high priests sang
When the wild death-cry rang
Speeding souls' flight.
Grant us to win the fight!
Grant us death's fires to light!
Favour the cause of right!
Woden, all bright!"