"Come, my men, let us be friends, and bring us what we want, that all may end in peace and pleasure. We care not to await much longer."
One of the oldest of the South Saxons stepped forward, and said that if Cædwalla would give Edilwalch a funeral becoming his rank, and would treat all men as well as Edilwalch had done, they would accept him for their king.
Cædwalla having accepted these conditions all hostilities were laid aside, the new king's followers helped to put the fires out, and, the bodies being carried away and torches brought, preparations were made for feasting the conquerors. The carcasses of some oxen were found ready roasted in the burnt stalls, and beer and milk were brought out from the stores belonging to Edilwalch, and which now belonged to his conqueror; all sat down on rough benches quickly improvised from the ruins of some of the cottages, and tables were made in the same rough-and-ready way.
Soon all was laughter and merriment: gaily the jugs of ale went round, and the half-roasted flesh was devoured with avidity. Coarse jest and practical joke accompanied the feast, and when all were satisfied the warriors slept round the remains of the repast. Only Cædwalla and his two lieutenants, Wulf and Athelhune, retired to a room in the half-burnt palace; a few of the more responsible of their soldiers were left to guard the door in turns, with orders to rouse every one if any cause for alarm should arise.
CHAPTER V.
ST. WILFRID.
The next morning found Cædwalla and his followers all astir at an early hour. The scene as the sun rose was a busy one. The inhabitants were clearing away the rubbish of their burnt dwellings, an occupation that did not make them look with very favourable eyes on the authors of the destruction; while the armed men of Cædwalla's party were carrying in the dead body of Edilwalch, whose arms and shield were already stripped off him, to become the spoils of his slayer, and were picking up the weapons and arms of the rest of the body-guard and of their own comrades.
Some of the leading inhabitants, anxious to be on good terms with their future king—for most men who could forecast the future augured from his success in the past night, and from the courage and ability he had shown, that it would not be long before he recovered the throne of Wessex, now occupied by his distant relative Centwine—were sending food for the young prince and his followers.
Cædwalla himself, as he came from the palace, was thanking these men, and inviting them to stop and share their own hospitality. The wound he had received was slight, and the arm was bound round with a bandage. His helmet was no longer the small steel cap he wore yesterday, but was one of Edilwalch's that had been discovered in the palace; it was encircled by a small wreath of oak leaves, which one of his followers had made for him in token of his victory. The shirt of mail that he had worn the night before was changed for another and more gorgeous one, the rings of which were gilt. A new battle-axe hung in a gold chain across his left shoulder, and his sword was suspended in a broad leather belt that crossed his right; his muscular arms were bare from the elbows, and two gold bangles adorned each wrist, inscribed with Runic characters. A young and handsome henchman carried a new shield, Wulf and Athelhune were on each side, and Ceolwulf came close behind him.
The moment of his appearance was the signal for all his followers to raise a shout of triumph, clashing their weapons together. Two of the men, who laid claim to being skalds, or poets, and whose business it was to celebrate every great occasion by extempore verse, and who had therefore been racking their brains all the night before to think of what they should say on the spur of the moment, now came forward, and the eldest of the two began in a loud voice to shout the following verses:—