“Thou hast said thou lovest me above all things else, yet wilt thou destroy me and my kin; thou art a Christian, yet wilt thou destroy the Christians.”
“A hard saying is that thou hast said: weep not so, my golden-haired one—thy sickness hath turned thy mind in this matter—in a different mood thou spokest when last we met in this place.”
“Call me no longer thy golden-haired one, and get thee hence, thou killer of Christians; with the aid of thee and thine Sigmund might turn the battle against Penda, but thou hast denied it; get thee hence; never more shalt thou gaze upon Torfrida.”
“Say not so—thou art beside thyself, and thy father hath prevailed upon thee to say these things—thou wilt not away, Torfrida, till I take my farewell of thee!”
But Torfrida pulled her rein and smote her horse and rode on, and Feargus neither moved nor spoke, but white like a dead man stood and gazed after her.
CHAPTER III
THE BATTLE BY TRENT WATER
But a few days later king Penda’s host was ready and they marched eastwards from the town of Lichfield, where Penda was then staying, intending to cross the Trent water below Nottingham, which stood beside the forest of Sherwood. And soon king Sigmund knew of Penda’s coming and started out to meet him, with all his strength, and thinking to fall upon him before he reached Trent, marched west from Lindum city, then, crossing the river, turned southwards through the forest. But Penda learnt of his coming, and in the night time hastening on with swiftness, took up a strong position below the high banks which skirt the river to the east a little below Nottingham. There he hid his men among the woods on the banks above, and mid the broom on the plain below, leaving the lowlands to the westward free to the Lindeseymen. And Feargus was in great sorrow at finding himself of the party. And through the day there was no stir or sound amongst all that great host. At length towards evening they beheld the banners of their foes. Then the Mercians sprung to life, and they filled all the narrow plain that lay between the cliffs and the river with foot, and the left wing with the horse under Osbert marched south hoping to reach the rear, ready to ford the stream and attack the Lindeseymen from the west and so drive them in upon the archers and footmen of Feargus and Wulfere, who, hidden by the wood and brambles, lined all the cliffs on the east side of Trent. In the narrow plain below, opposite the ford, stood Penda, commanding the centre and waiting without movement the coming of Sigmund. Soon the plain to the north and west was filled with a great array of foot and horsemen, and when Feargus beheld them from his post on the cliff his heart fluttered and he forgot his troubles a while, for he was in very soul a warrior and the sight of that armed host was like strong wine to him. Sigmund had meanwhile sent a large party of bowmen across the river to hold the cliffs. Feargus thereupon called to Wulfere to command the bowmen, while he gathered his foot and went out to meet the foe, seeing that the men who must decide this battle were in his hand. The enemy below being now within bowshot, the bowmen of Wulfere sent a shower of arrows forth such as astonished those men of Lindesey; for till now they had seen no sign of life in the wood or anywhere but in front of them, where fluttered the banner of Penda. And they marched on, their ranks falling in whole lines before the terrible arrows, which flew from the very cliffs which Sigmund had sent the flower of his army to win, thinking that the Mercians had only just arrived. Still the white-haired Penda sat motionless upon his beast and took no note of the weak reply that was made to them by the archers Sigmund had kept with him. Then suddenly a great cry arose in the rear of Sigmund’s army, as the horsemen of Osbert, who had worked round to their flank from the south, fell upon them, followed by many companies of foot. Sigmund looked anxiously to where his bow and footmen should be, on the cliff, but at that moment the Picts under Feargus, with Welsh from Wales, and Welsh also who still dwelt in Mercia, and with the famous British bowmen of Arden and the Warwickshire woodlands under king Penda, and many English, burst out from the woods; and they drove the Lindeseymen before them like sheep, so fiercely and suddenly they leapt forth. Then was the heather blood bedewed, and the golden broom turned to red, and ever the Picts and Welsh pushed on and the men of Sigmund held back, till at last they were driven over the cliffs, and Feargus sent the Welsh after them down the bank, they being lightest of foot. And they beat them down towards the plain below where was king Sigmund. And the arrows of the Mercians darkened the very lift, and Penda himself had now moved on against the king, and when he beheld him Sigmund was adread, and his warriors stood still; for all men went in fear of Penda. Then Sigmund saw his men driven down from the cliffs to the north-east before the dread cry “Albanich! Albanich!” and he knew that there were Feargus and his Picts. And still he cried, “On, on!” but little room was there left for sword play on that narrow strath by the great river, for the press of the men driven in by Feargus on the east and by Osbert on the west became so great that friend struck friend unwittingly, and no man had room to ply his arms. King Sigmund down in the glen now saw that all was lost, and he wound his horn that those who could might escape, and himself, with many good footmen, held the ford against the centre of the Mercian host led by Penda. Slowly but grimly Sigmund gave back, step by step, until many of his bowmen had gained the west side of Trent water, and then all that remained plunged into the river and fled towards the forest with the king. And shouts of “Kill, kill!” arose from the Mercians and, like dogs let loose, they broke their ranks and fell upon the fugitives.
Then Feargus wound his horn and strove to stay the slaughter, but little sense had the most of them left; they were drunk with blood, and only his own men gathered around him. And the rush of the Lindeseymen was ever towards Lindum, their city; some fled through the forest there to ford the stream, and some turned east and made their way into the fens, and the Mercians followed those that fled through the forest and those that fled up the east bank of Trent. Feargus’s thoughts were for Torfrida and to save Sigmund, if it might be. Seeing that Penda had kept together a great body of men about him and was safe from surprise, Feargus horsed as many of his followers as he could find beasts for, and the rest held each a stirrup and ran with them afoot. The chase lasted till midnight when they came within sight of Sigmund’s city of Lincoln or Lindum, which stood high on a great hill; but already the Mercians were at its gates; some had scaled the walls and some were in fight with the fugitives as they came up. Riding hard across the plain below, Feargus saw fire burst from one of the ports; a great shout followed, and now all the sky was filled with flames and smoke and myriads of sparks; for a moment the men slackened their speed, awe-stricken, at the savage sight. Feargus saw that the town had fallen, and, leaving his men behind, dashed on like a madman. When he neared the gate the fire lighted up the bloody hands and faces of the besiegers, flushed with drink and victory, and he shuddered as he beheld them—little mercy would king or lady get from these men, and, spurring his horse, he burst through the press, and when they heard his cry, “Albanich! Albanich!” they made way, though with curses at being turned from their prey. Through the burning town he rode; one or two tried to stay him, but he dashed them fiercely aground, and at last drew up by the hall of Sigmund. Here the press was thicker, and he saw the door was down and the drunken rout were in; and coarse jests and oaths and shrieks filled the air. Then Feargus sprang from his beast and burst in, crying, “Back, back!” but the soldiers heeded him not, and one even turned and struck him. Now a giant was Feargus, his red head stood out a full span above the dark-haired Britons of Arden forest and the pale-haired English of the towns, and he laid hold of him who struck, by the waist, and lightly tossed him out through the open door, and then, not wishing to slay any, seized an oaken staff and dealt blows right and left; each one he struck was quickly sobered and asked for no more. At length he gained the hall. There he found the Mercians gathered also, but he burst through them to the king’s chamber where he beheld Sigmund’s youngest son, Edwy, with half-a-dozen stalwart thanes. At his feet lay his two brothers, dead; while behind, crouching to the floor, her hands clasped in prayer and her knees wet with the blood of the slain, was Torfrida. Hard bestead were those brave Lindeseymen, and wounded and sore with fighting; before them were many Mercian thanes, while others tried to force a way in at the door. These Feargus roughly seized and thrust to right and left until he won in.