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

by Frank Cowper

He could scarcely believe he was not still dreaming when he saw his wounded father lying on the couch beside him; however, recollections of the past night soon brought back a sense of reality, and he gazed at the worn and ghastly face of his father with tears of pity and sympathy.

One by one the others woke up, until at last the whole party was up and about. Such of the food as was left from the previous day was now divided equally, but it was not enough to satisfy the hunger of these vigorous men, and all agreed that something must be done to obtain a fresh supply.

Ceolwulf and Athelhune decided that the first thing to do was to put the ruins in a state of defence, and for this purpose all hands were set to work at once. The hewn stones that faced the rough rubble of the walls were piled up as skilfully as they were able to arrange it, and the space to be defended was much contracted; but they took care to enclose the well within their walls.

Cutting down some of the brushwood which grew close against the ruins, they made a rude shelter with the boughs, and wattled it with hazel. Into this cabin they carried the Eorldoman Ælfhere, whose wounds had been examined by Malachi, and pronounced very serious; indeed, it was a marvel he had lived so long, for the battle-axe of the Jutes and Saxons did not leave much life in a foeman when once it was driven home. In Ælfhere's case, however, the blow had been partially turned aside by the eorldoman's own axe. When Athelhune, who now that the conduct of the expedition was completed had taken command in right of his rank as eorldoman and chief officer of Cædwalla, saw that the defences could be completed without much more labour, he consulted with Ceolwulf about the necessity of sending out a party to forage. There was no question about the absolute need of getting food, only it was a matter of great importance not to alienate the sympathy of Ælfhere's ceorls or labourers; but as nearly all the cattle and crops, of which there was very slight store, belonged to Ælfhere, and were now in the hands of Arwald's eorldoman who was left in the occupation of the house at Brædynge, there was less chance of their taking anything that belonged to any one else. At this early time in the Saxon settlements the free rovers, who had come under the leadership of their own elected chiefs, were still very free and independent, and the difference between the eorls and the ceorls was much less marked than it was in the later Saxon time, when in the days of Æthelred the life of a ceorl was valued at a third of the "were," or money value of a thane, and a sixth of that of a royal thane: but in the seventh century, and in the unsettled state of the lawless parts of the South Saxon and West Saxon kingdoms, the right of each eorldoman depended very much upon his might, and the title to property, both real and personal, rested chiefly upon the power of defending what each man possessed by his own strong arm and good sword, supported by such adherents as affection or interest attached to him.

It was therefore decided that at nightfall Ceolwulf should take out two of the most enterprising men, and carry off what he could from the barns around the old house of Ælfhere. The men who were told off for this service were directed to rest. The others went on with the completion of the defences.

After Malachi had attended to the wounded and seemingly dying eorldoman, he began to examine the ruins of the building in which he found himself.

The whole place was littered with débris, broken pottery, fallen columns, decaying rafters that had once supported the roof, and tiles. The work of clearing away a space round the well had disclosed several curious short columns made of tiles all very close together, but the spaces had been hastily filled again to render the standing room all the firmer. During the progress of raising the walls the men had uncovered here and there fragments of coloured designs, which they would have liked to explore further, but Athelhune was anxious to get the defences in a fitting state to stand an assault before nightfall, and all examination of them was at that time put off.

Malachi, however, being looked upon as a rather feeble idiot, was allowed to do what he liked, and he had now uncovered a picture such as he had never seen before, at least not in that style and size.

Such art productions as he had ever seen consisted in a few pictures in an illuminated manuscript which belonged to a monastery in his native Ireland or Ierne: among them was one representing our Lord under the symbol of the Good Shepherd. The pictures were the work of a Byzantine artist, and traces of classical influence were naturally seen in the designs and their treatment. He was, therefore, at once struck by the similarity of the large figure playing on some musical instrument, surrounded by animals, to the illumination of the Good Shepherd. His delight, which was very great, was caused not only by the novelty and beauty of the discovery, but because he concluded that there must have been Christians here—a somewhat rash conclusion to come to on such a slight foundation.

While he was removing still more of the rubbish, he was aroused from his absorption by an aged voice near him saying: