Their claim was but the omnipotence of torture.
The thrall led the way to a spot where the earth bore marks of footsteps; here it was evident men had recently entered the maze which stretched before them.
Hugo pressed forward and took the cord himself.
"Now," he said, "Normans, follow me. Lead on, thrall; remember thy farm at Aescendune, and thy forfeit life."
Onward, infatuated as the Egyptians when they pa.s.sed between the suspended walls of the Red Sea, the band followed their leader into the maze; the path was narrow, the reeds were tall, and soon they towered above the heads of the rash invaders.
High bulrushes, tall flags; thick, sedgy vegetation beneath; the ground, firm enough below at first, soon became quaking and felt strangely elastic under their feet. The marsh was here of great width, and shortly they had advanced a considerable distance from firm ground, and were in the midst of the Swamp.
And here the path became more and more difficult. Sometimes only one could pa.s.s at once; nor could they see distinctly where they were going. The sun, too, which might have guided them as to the direction of their march, was temporarily clouded.
"Dog," said Hugo to the captive guide, "if thou misleadest us thou shalt die."
"A man can die but once."
"Thou art a bold villain," said the baron, raising his sword.
"Slay me, and who will guide thee through the marsh?"
"True; do thy duty and fear nought."
"I will do my duty."
All this pa.s.sed while they were slowly advancing, and the strange part of it was this, that they did not seem to get to the end of their toil. Little did they suspect that they were wandering in a path which knew no end, save the bottom of the quagmire.
And now the marks of the feet, which had hitherto appeared plain before Hugo as he rode, were seen no more; nor could the baron tell the precise spot when they faded from sight; they had become fainter and fainter, and then had vanished.
"Dog, where are the footmarks? thou art wandering from the road."
"We shall soon find them again."
"Are we nearly over the Swamp?"
"Thou wilt see firm land soon."
The baron grasped the cord tightly.
Onward they wandered, and still naught but rushes and flags, sedges and dried reeds, met their gaze, until a promontory of firm ground--a rock of deep red sandstone--rose from the mire, above their heads--distant, it might be, a bow shot.
The baron uttered a sigh of relief, when his horse stumbled; the poor brute strove to recover his footing, and sank deeper into the treacherous quicksand. Over went the Baron, over his horse"s head.
Ordgar s.n.a.t.c.hed at the cord; it escaped Hugo"s grasp; the guide was amidst the reeds, and in one moment he had made his escape; the reeds parted, waved again, higher than the head of the fugitive, and the baron saw him no more; only a mocking laugh arose to augment the rage of the baffled tyrant.
But that rage was speedily changed to terror, for, as the baron rose, his feet sank beneath him, and he felt as if some unseen hand had grasped them in the tenacity of the quicksand, just as a faint cloud of smoke rolled by overhead.
Meanwhile the men in the rear were pressing on, and the foremost advanced to help their leader and his struggling steed; but all who did so were soon in the mire in like fashion, sinking deeper with each struggle.
Oh, how awful that sucking, clasping feeling beneath the surface of the earth, that gradual sinking out of sight--a process lasting perhaps for hours. But hours were not given to Baron Hugo; for at this moment the awful cry of "Fire!" "Fire!" was heard on all sides, and a loud mocking shout of laughter from hundreds of unseen enemies, now safe on the firm ground beyond the Swamp, was the answer.
A cloud of thick smoke rolled over the reeds, and cries of distress and anguish arose yet more loudly.
"Death to the incendiary! let him who burnt the monks of St.
Wilfred die by fire himself as is meet!"
The latter cry arose from the borders of the Swamp, hidden from sight by thick eddying billows of smoke.
A flashing sheet of flame, then another--clouds of thick smoke rolling above--the crackling of flame, devouring the dry herbage--stifling heat, yet more unendurable each moment--suffocation impending as the air became thicker and denser.
Held by the quicksand, and sinking deeper and deeper--only raised above the ground from the middle of the body; so Hugo awaited his just fate--and felt it just.
"Oh for an hour to repent! oh for a priest! My sins have found me out."
A sudden gust of wind opened a pa.s.sage through the smoke, and revealed in the lurid light of the flames--Wilfred of Aescendune!
For a moment the baron thought himself dead, and at the judgment seat; then as he saw his supposed victim standing in safety, afar off on the high rock, and pointing out the scene, with awe yet exultation on his youthful face, he grasped, as in a moment, the whole secret of the forces which had been arrayed against him, and tasted an agony bitterer than that of death.
"All is lost," he cried.
His courage now gave way; he proffered fabulous rewards to any who would save him; but none could help; nay, all were in like distress. His brain reeled--the flames approached--nearer--nearer.
It was an awful scene. The marsh was a raging furnace. The exulting cries of the English mingled with the groans of their suffering foes. Pity there was none--the remembrance of the burnt priory had extinguished that sweet virtue.
Ah! who shall tell of the terrible hatred, the thirst of blood, which war--begotten of man"s fellest pa.s.sions--had created in the hearts of the oppressed? Who would not pray for peace on earth, good will towards men {xv}?
CHAPTER XVII. THE ENGLISH HEIR TAKES POSSESSION.
The castle and village of Aescendune lay in deep silence all through this eventful day; it was in early spring, and the air was balmy, the sun bright, the birds sang their sweetest songs, the hedgerows and trees put forth their fresh green buds, and all nature seemed instinct with life.
Only a few gray-headed servitors were left to guard the precincts of the castle, for no attack was apprehended from the marauders of the forest, as the Normans styled the English; and every one who could bear arms had left to swell the final triumph of Hugo.
Noontide came, and found the little band, of some score aged men, intent upon their midday meal. This accomplished, they reclined in various easy positions, around the battlements, or on the greensward without, while some had even penetrated into the forest in their eagerness to hear the first news of the extermination of the English, which none doubted was close at hand.
Towards the evening, one of them, who lay reclining on a mossy bank beneath a spreading beech, on a slight eminence, observed a great smoke rising above the tree tops in the distance.
"Doubtless," thought he, "they are smoking the vermin out, or burning the houses and barns--of which we have heard--within the circle of the Deadly Swamp."
But as the smoke increased more and more, a certain vague feeling of anxiety gained possession of him, and he longed for more accurate means of observation.
"Would I were not so old!
"Oh, young Tristam," he cried, as he observed a Norman boy, son of one of the men-at-arms--a lad of about twelve years of age--"come here!"
"What does all that smoke mean?" cried the lad; "are they burning the encampment of the rebels, or has the forest caught fire? it is dry enough."