William H. Babcock - Cian of the Chariots - Chapter XIV: The Conflict at the Lake Village lyrics

CHAPTER XIV. THE CONFLICT AT THE LAKE VILLAGE. True it is deliverance will come By the wished for man. – Red Book of Hergest. TIGERNACH was the fevered one now. "Faster!" cried he to the horsemen hurrying behind them. "Faster! There's not one second to lose. Ride to d**h; ride to d**h if need be!" Cian put forth his hand to bring his follower within bounds. "Tell me," said he; and in fragments Tigernach told him, with some aid from one of Llywarch's two marshmen, who had brought the news, and was their guide. Eschwine had indeed broken faith, coming secretly against the lake village, in the hope of seizing Aurelia. His force was a great one, according to the measure of marsh-fighting. Oisin, in perfect good faith and zeal, had tempted her to remain over long. There was barely time to send this messenger to the villa, and one other toward London, before they were wrapped all around with enemies. Neither had failed; for while they spoke sounds of contention [Page 141] came to them, as though Osburn, with his mercenaries and citizens, was vigorously attempting the guarded lower ford of the Lea. Their own route lay otherwhere; a détour reaching the northern border of the great marsh at a point where a path went inward – barely practicable and known to few. It was not until they had crossed the lesser waters of that river that the uproar around Oisin and the queen became audible. At the same time, under thick hanging clouds, a beacon-flare of red and yellow light, waving with the wind, made a silent, powerful appeal for aid. All around it were lesser lights, doubled by reflection in water, and broken by intervening boughs. The marshman, pointing to these, laid his hand on Cian's knee. While he pointed, these divided and multiplied, as though fire were being borrowed from fire. All at once a flight as of shooting-stars went centring in from them toward the roofs under the beacon light. Their guide gave a grunt of answered expectation, with no pleasure in it. All behind cried out once, but ceased as suddenly. In that breath came to them the fierce yell that went with the fire-arrows, and the high-keyed, harsh defiance of the villagers answering. Flight followed flight, with the same company of noises. There was waving of flambeaux, also, about the palisades, and a huddle of dark forms, actively [Page 142] moving, below them, with every discord of onset. Here and there a fresh outburst of flame within, as some bit of woodwork caught fire, showed the defenders with equal plainness. The outlines of the houses, too, were thrown out with fitful vividness; and their walls and slanting thatch danced back and forth between illumination and shadow. Cian lost nothing of this, but saw as he hurried on, with only a moment's halting. His teeth and eyes were set, his breath came laboringly. Prayers and curses were in his heart together. Suddenly there were no more meteors. The torches, being inverted, flared higher, and then were dark. Shadows went hurrying back across the half-lighted lake. A loud call of taunting and gladness followed them. One crisis of the little city of refuge had come and pa**ed in Cian's distant vision; and, behold, it was living yet. But dwellings were ablaze already, so there was no more need for the beacon. Their course was yet wide of that shining mark. Impatience a**ailed Cian; doubts began to hover; the night air, now clammy with marsh dampness, chilled him thoroughly; but he clenched his countenance, and kept on unquestioning. The footing grew soft under a thin shell of frozen mire. At every step they sank deeper. "Where is that secret way you promised us?" Tigernach demanded sharply. "Here, turn!" was the marshman's answer, hoarse and savage as though from hostile lips. His gesture directed them toward that lessening riot of flame and the ruddy smoke-ma**es which overhung it. They still went heavily, yet at first not increasingly so; having for path a narrow ribbon of moist but solid land, which dangled a good way out from the higher country into that bleak mora**. They kept a thread-like and winding order, following the guide with good heed; their best light was the mere intermittent glimmer of a thin paring of moon from behind the now broken and marching clouds. At last they had to leave their horses under guard at a little eyot of firm sod where some bushes grew, and pushed on afoot from tuft to tuft very precariously, now leaping, now dragging one another out of some oily hole where a man unaided would have sunk forever. It was all a desperate task to Cian, the imperfectly convalescent; but he called wit to aid nerve and sinew, measuring the steps, and marking the footholds of the sure-stepping native next before him, and leaving rescue-work to those who were in better case for it. All strength which he could husband would be needed elsewhere, soon and right urgently. The lights, fading down, appeared ever farther and farther ahead, until their seeming withdrawal grew disheartening. Then revelation came very start- [Page 144] lingly. Once more the earth and air were alive with confusion of sound, with volumes of reddening cloud and dragons of fire – all just before them, with only a thin hedge of forestry between. They hurried on, and paused, as yet unseen amid the lake-encircling trees, with the glare of fire and water in their faces. Their nearest enemies were not a spear's throw away. Eager-eyed the tall Saxon bowmen stood, sending arrow after arrow in long flight with fiery mane into and over the palisade, or bending to light at the f*got-pyres the tow, tar-painted, until impatience drove them, one after another, out through the ice-crusted shallows to a more immediate share in the a**ault. The lake on that side was no real obstacle to these fighting watermen, except as they could not get footing for their strokes and labor at the last. Already in and on the deep water, next the palisade, there was a broad entanglement of boats and rafts and logs and swimming men. Some of the latter were chopping steps in the tall piles before them, others were swarming up with desperate energy at points that looked more nearly practicable than the rest. Many more came to them continually, either straight out from the shore, or around the village, wading knee-deep, waist-deep, neck-deep, and waist-deep again, or swimming overhand through the ice-film with great strokes. [Page 145] To judge by the excited clamor and signs of effort, the besieged were not less busy. At the moment of Cian's appearance, two or three of the climbing Saxons were flung, from the top of the wall, with stabs or without them, and the air thickened with other missiles, often glowing hot, showered on the heads below. Yet the escalade was gaining, urged on to fury by yells of fight in the marshes toward the Lea, which were heard interruptedly through their own hurly-burly, and seemed approaching, though distant still. Osburn was coming – resolutely, vehemently, in spite of all resistance, and with the utmost speed which it would allow; but he could never come in time. Well for the village folk, well for Aurelia, that there was no need to await him, with the Sword of Fire in person almost over the palisade! Cian quickly spread his men to cover that curve of shore from which wading was possible, and then sent them at Eschwine, convergingly and with a dash. Even while the last lingering archers were staring with half-turned heads at the sudden apparition of lines of armed men behind them, a great shout went up from these, which every Briton knew, and the keen cry of the marshman-guide followed it. As he sent that forth, he sprang on the nearest enemy, spearing him through the throat, and driving weapon and Saxon headlong into the water together. From [Page 146] the village came a glad chorus of many applauding voices. The other Saxon bowmen hurried out to join their comrades, letting fly an arrow or two behind them as they fled. Nearly the whole Saxon ma** was now in such depth of water as allowed neither secure footing nor free arm-play. Before them was the well-manned barrier which had so tried their strength already; behind them a bristling array of new enemies, not very many in number, but with order yet unbroken, pausing where the bottom suddenly fell away, standing knee-deep or thigh-deep without harm since their part was simply to hold their places. Only at the ends of the curving line was there any outlet. Eschwine stood on the platform of the palisade with a handful who had followed him, fighting bitterly to make good their hold; while Aurelia urged forward her guards, and Oisin called on the wild, lank villagers, to dislodge them. Such of the Saxons as were yet climbing scrambled desperately up to their king. The others floundered uncertainly for some moments, with cries of discomfiture. Then, back toward the shore went the sea-heathen, swimming and wading as they could, mostly spear in hand, but some with swords, battle-axes, knives, and clubs of war, keeping no order, but fierce as cornered wolves. There was very grim fighting then, so that the [Page 147] water frothed and spouted with the frenzy of it, and men everywhere fell singly or in writhing and strangling couples. But the Saxons went down seven to one, growing momently less. Very soon there were none withstanding or a**ailing the Britons, but only a few who had broken through or swam around, and were now hastening to the woods, if so they might escape pursuers, and another few who sought refuge with Eschwine above the palisade. These last were closely followed, Cian's men cutting into them as they swam, or dragging them down by the feet from the rough wood. Nevertheless, enough of them reached the top to extend very briefly the struggle of the Ess** king. He gave those few moments to a charge against Aurelia, most likely in mere fury and bravado, for he could not hope to carry her away. She did not shrink. The press behind her was such as to preclude any motion. Cian, painfully drawing himself up to the top of the palisade, discerned them both with blurred vision, and tumbled over upon the platform before her in a last violent effort. Then another form sprang over him, a starved infuriated hovel-dweller of that border, prematurely aged, who had lost all who were dear to him by that Saxon, and had pa**ed bodily under his torture. Like a figure of frenzy this odd a**ailant came at [Page 148] the Saxon chief, bony and knotted, agile as a dancing dervish of later days, white-hot with remembered outrage and ravening zeal, a firebrand in one hand, a great knife in the other, striking right at the enemy's eyeballs with the rapidity of cat-clawing, either weapon or both together – a very mountain-devil of a fighter. Eschwine was bewildered and half blinded by the fantastic onfall. He took one step awry, swaying for the stroke that should end it; lost his balance under a new smiting of the torch, and went headlong down into the water, leaving that human firebrand to chant his pæans of victory alone. The villagers and London men, with a shout of laughter, flung themselves on the remaining intruders, hewed them down, and cast them over after him, all but one likely youth, whom Cian bade them spare. There were splashing and fighting where Eschwine made his unwilling dive, and many calls afterward, as that he was here, or here. Those within the wall were in high hope of his capture. But at last no one could find him, and there was little doubt that some chance had aided his escape to the wood. Not long afterward, Osburn, with his forces, came up, all opposition having suddenly left them. Their loss had been far greater than that of the other Britons, as Osburn had steadily to dislodge an enemy [Page 149] noted for doggedness, who fell back again and again from one strong position to another. He was ill-pleased with Cian that even one prisoner should be taken after so much slaughter and broken faith, and incensed above all against Oisin – who joined very willingly in his condemnation – for having by his spiritual solicitude brought such trouble on them all. Not even the queen escaped his censure. He would take no rest until he had her within London wall again. Therein the villagers mightily concurred. She had indeed been the soul of the defence from its beginning; but what need to defend, if there were no temptation for Eschwine? Better than royalty with fireworks was their safe and wonted obscurity. Meanwhile Eschwine, safe now beyond the Thames, was blaspheming and grinning together over the grotesqueness of his overthrow, as he made his way to take shelter with that half-ally, half-competitor, Aesc, the Under-king of West Kent. He had hope of aid there, when wrongs and opportunities should have been thrillingly presented. He had no thought of giving up his purpose or his future prize after all that had been staked thereon.