The Dragon And The Raven: Or The Days Of King Alfred(Fiscle Part-3) - G. A. Henty (best pdf ebook reader .txt) 📗

Part 3 Preface Pg 1

My Dear Lads,

 

Living In The Present Days Of Peace And Tranquillity It Is

Difficult To Picture The Life Of Our Ancestors In The Days Of

King Alfred,  When The Whole Country Was For Years Overrun

By Hordes Of Pagan Barbarians,  Who Slaughtered,  Plundered,

And Destroyed At Will. You May Gain,  Perhaps,  A Fair

Conception Of The State Of Things If You Imagine That At The

Time Of The Great Mutiny The English Population Of India

Approached That Of The Natives,  And That The Mutiny Was

Everywhere Triumphant. The Wholesale Massacres And Outrages

Which Would In Such A Case Have Been Inflicted Upon The

Conquered Whites Could Be No Worse Than Those Suffered By

The Saxons At The Hands Of The Danes. From This Terrible State

Of Subjection And Suffering The Saxons Were Rescued By The

Part 3 Preface Pg 2

Prudence,  The Patience,  The Valour And Wisdom Of King Alfred.

In All Subsequent Ages England Has Produced No Single Man Who

United In Himself So Many Great Qualities As Did This First

Of Great Englishmen. He Was Learned,  Wise,  Brave,  Prudent,

And Pious; Devoted To His People,  Clement To His Conquered

Enemies. He Was As Great In Peace As In War; And Yet Few

English Boys Know More Than A Faint Outline Of The Events

Of Alfred's Reign--Events Which Have Exercised An Influence

Upon The Whole Future Of The English People. School Histories

Pass Briefly Over Them; And The Incident Of The Burned Cake

Is That Which Is,  Of All The Actions Of A Great And Glorious

Reign,  The Most Prominent In Boys' Minds. In This Story I Have

Tried To Supply The Deficiency. Fortunately In The Saxon

Chronicles And In The Life Of King Alfred Written By His Friend

And Counsellor Asser,  We Have A Trustworthy Account Of The Events

And Battles Which First Laid Wessex Prostrate Beneath The Foot Of

The Danes,  And Finally Freed England For Many Years From The

Invaders. These Histories I Have Faithfully Followed. The Account

Of The Siege Of Paris Is Taken From A Very Full And Detailed

History Of That Event By The Abbe D'abbon,  Who Was A Witness

Of The Scenes He Described.

 

Yours Sincerely,

G. A. Henty

 

 

Part 3 Chapter 1 (The Fugitives) Pg 3

 

 

A Low Hut Built Of Turf Roughly Thatched With Rushes

And Standing On The Highest Spot Of Some Slightly

Raised Ground. It Was Surrounded By A Tangled Growth

Of Bushes And Low Trees,  Through Which A Narrow And Winding

Path Gave Admission To The Narrow Space On Which The

Hut Stood. The Ground Sloped Rapidly. Twenty Yards From

The House The Trees Ceased,  And A Rank Vegetation Of Reeds

And Rushes Took The Place Of The Bushes,  And The Ground

Became Soft And Swampy. A Little Further Pools Of Stagnant

Water Appeared Among The Rushes,  And The Path Abruptly

Stopped At The Edge Of A Stagnant Swamp,  Though The Passage

Could Be Followed By The Eye For Some Distance Among The

Tall Rushes. The Hut,  In Fact,  Stood On A Hummock In The

Midst Of A Wide Swamp Where The Water Sometimes Deepened

Into Lakes Connected By Sluggish Streams.

 

Part 3 Chapter 1 (The Fugitives) Pg 3

On The Open Spaces Of Water Herons Stalked Near The

Margin,  And Great Flocks Of Wild-Fowl Dotted The Surface.

Other Signs Of Life There Were None,  Although A Sharp Eye

Might Have Detected Light Threads Of Smoke Curling Up Here

And There From Spots Where The Ground Rose Somewhat Above

The General Level. These Slight Elevations,  However,  Were Not

Visible To The Eye,  For The Herbage Here Grew Shorter Than On

The Lower And Wetter Ground,  And The Land Apparently

Stretched Away For A Vast Distance In A Dead Flat--

A Rush-Covered Swamp,  Broken Only Here And There

By Patches Of Bushes And Low Trees.

 

The Little Hut Was Situated In The Very Heart Of The Fen

Country,  Now Drained And Cultivated,  But In The Year 870

Untouched By The Hand Of Man,  The Haunt Of Wild-Fowl And

Human Fugitives. At The Door Of The Hut Stood A Lad Some

Fourteen Years Old. His Only Garment Was A Short Sleeveless

Tunic Girded In At The Waist,  His Arms And Legs Were Bare;

His Head Was Uncovered,  And His Hair Fell In Masses On His

Shoulders. In His Hand He Held A Short Spear,  And Leaning

Against The Wall Of The Hut Close At Hand Was A Bow And Quiver

Of Arrows. The Lad Looked At The Sun,  Which Was Sinking

Towards The Horizon.

 

"Father Is Late," He Said. "I Trust That No Harm Has Come

To Him And Egbert. He Said He Would Return To-Day Without

Fail; He Said Three Or Four Days,  And This Is The Fourth. It Is

Dull Work Here Alone. You Think So,  Wolf,  Don't You,  Old Fellow?

And It Is Worse For You Than It Is For Me,  Pent Up On This

Hummock Of Ground With Scarce Room To Stretch Your Limbs."

 

A Great Wolf-Hound,  Who Was Lying With His Head Between

His Paws By The Embers Of A Fire In The Centre Of The

Hut,  Raised His Head On Being Addressed,  And Uttered A Low

Howl Indicative Of His Agreement With His Master's Opinion

And His Disgust At His Present Place Of Abode.

 

"Never Mind,  Old Fellow," The Boy Continued,  "We Sha'n't

Be Here Long,  I Hope,  And Then You Shall Go With Me In The

Woods Again And Hunt The Wolves To Your Heart's Content."

The Great Hound Gave A Lazy Wag Of His Tail. "And Now,  Wolf,

I Must Go. You Lie Here And Guard The Hut While I Am Away.

Not That You Are Likely To Have Any Strangers To Call In My

Absence."

 

The Dog Rose And Stretched Himself,  And Followed His

Master Down The Path Until It Terminated At The Edge Of The

Water. Here He Gave A Low Whimper As The Lad Stepped In And

Waded Through The Water; Then Turning He Walked Back To

The Hut And Threw Himself Down At The Door. The Boy Proceeded

For Some Thirty Or Forty Yards Through The Water,  Then

Paused And Pushed Aside The Wall Of Rushes Which Bordered

The Passage,  And Pulled Out A Boat Which Was Floating Among

Them.

Part 3 Chapter 1 (The Fugitives) Pg 4

 

It Was Constructed Of Osier Rods Neatly Woven Together

Into A Sort Of Basket-Work,  And Covered With An Untanned Hide

With The Hairy Side In. It Was Nearly Oval In Shape,  And

Resembled A Great Bowl Some Three Feet And A Half Wide And A

Foot Longer. A Broad Paddle With A Long Handle Lay In It,  And

The Boy,  Getting Into It And Standing Erect In The Middle

Paddled Down The Strip Of Water Which A Hundred Yards Further

Opened Out Into A Broad Half A Mile Long And Four Or Five

Hundred Yards Wide. Beyond Moving Slowly Away As The

Coracle Approached Them,  The Water-Fowl Paid But Little Heed

To Its Appearance.

 

The Boy Paddled To The End Of The Broad,  Whence A Passage,

Through Which Flowed A Stream So Sluggish That Its Current

Could Scarce Be Detected,  Led Into The Next Sheet Of Water.

Across The Entrance To This Passage Floated Some Bundles

Of Light Rushes. These The Boy Drew Out One By One. Attached

To Each Was A Piece Of Cord Which,  Being Pulled Upon,

Brought To The Surface A Large Cage,  Constructed Somewhat

On The Plan Of A Modern Eel Or Lobster Pot. They Were Baited

By Pieces Of Dead Fish,  And From Them The Boy Extracted Half

A Score Of Eels And As Many Fish Of Different Kinds.

 

"Not A Bad Haul," He Said As He Lowered The Cages To The

Bottom Again. "Now Let Us See What We Have Got In Our Pen."

 

He Paddled A Short Way Along The Broad To A Point Where

A Little Lane Of Water Ran Up Through The Rushes. This

Narrowed Rapidly And The Lad Got Out From His Boat Into The

Water,  As The Coracle Could Proceed No Further Between The Lines

Of Rushes. The Water Was Knee-Deep And The Bottom Soft And

Oozy. At The End Of The Creek It Narrowed Until The Rushes

Were But A Foot Apart. They Were Bent Over Here,  As It Would

Seem To A Superficial Observer Naturally; But A Close

Examination Would Show That Those Facing Each Other Were Tied

Together Where They Crossed At A Distance Of A Couple Of Feet

Above The Water,  Forming A Sort Of Tunnel. Two Feet Farther

On This Ceased,  And The Rushes Were Succeeded By Lines Of

Strong Osier Withies,  An Inch Or Two Apart,  Arched Over And

Fastened Together. At This Point Was A Sort Of Hanging Door

Formed Of Rushes Backed With Osiers,  And So Arranged That At

The Slightest Push From Without The Door Lifted And Enabled A

Wild-Fowl To Pass Under,  But Dropping Behind It Prevented Its

Exit. The Osier Tunnel Widened Out To A Sort Of Inverted Basket

Three Feet In Diameter.

 

On The Surface Of The Creek Floated Some Grain Which

Had Been Scattered There The Evening Before As A Bait. The

Lad Left The Creek Before He Got To The Narrower Part,  And,

Making A Small Circuit In The Swamp,  Came Down Upon The

Pen.

 

"Good!" He Said,  "I Am In Luck To-Day; Here Are Three Fine

Ducks."