The road was partly encumbered with fugitives, but not wholly, as most
of them sought the entrenched camp. Cynewulf accompanied him to the
gate, where he stopped to give one last piece of advice.
"Fly, my lord, for Wessex at once; lose no time; the best route will be
the Foss Way; they will not suspect that you have taken that direction.
Ride day and night; if you delay anywhere you are lost."
"Farewell, faithful and wise counsellor. Odin and Thor send that we may
meet again;" and Edwy with only a dozen followers rode out at full speed.
The Mercians had not yet reached that side of the camp, which was
concealed by woods which were clear of all enemies, and he rode on rapidly.
"What has become of Elfric, my Leofric?" he said to one of his faithful
train.
"I fear me he is dead: I saw him fall in the last struggle."
"Poor Elfric! poor Elfric! then his forebodings have come true; he will
never see his father again."
"It is all fortune and fate, and none can resist his doom, my lord,"
said Leofric.
"But Elfric; yes, I loved Elfric. I would I had never left that fatal
field."
"Think, my lord, of Elgiva."
"Yes, Elgiva--she is left to me and left all is left. Ride faster,
Leofric, I fancy I hear pursuers."
They had, at Cynewulf's suggestion, taken fresh horses from the reserve,
and had little cause to fear pursuit. In an hour they reached the Foss
Way and rode along the route described in our former chapter, until,
reaching the frontiers of the territory of the old Dobuni, they left the
Foss, and rode by the Roman trackway which we have previously described,
until they turned into a road which brought them deep into Oxfordshire.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210