On the Banks of the Dee: a legend of Chester concerning the fate of Harold; Preserved in the Harleian MS. British Museum

Front matter

I " SELECT " NOVELS. Crown &vo, Cloth, 3/6 each. AT ALL BOOKSELLERS' AND BOOKSTALLS ••_^»_*"*_--»_ By FLORENCE MAKRTAT. THE HEART OF JANE WARNER. PEERESS AND PLAYER. UNDER THE LILIES AND ROSES. FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS. MY OWN CHILD. A BROKEN BLOSSOM. HER WORLD AGAINST A LIE. MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. By ANNIE THOMAS (Mrs. Pender Cudlip). KATE VALLIANT. I ALLERTON TOWERS. JENIFER. | FRIENDS AND LOVERS. By LADY CONSTANCE HOWARD. MATED WITH A CLOWN. I MOLLIE DARLING. ONLY A VILLAGE MAIDEN. | SWEETHEART AND WIFE. By MRS. HOUSTOTJN, Author of " Recommended to Mercy. '; BARBARA'S WARNING. By MRS. ALEXANDER FRASER. THE MATCH OF THE SEASON. | A FATAL PASSION. A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. By IZA DUFFUS HARDY. ONLY A LOVE-STORY. | NOT EASILY JEALOUS. LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY. By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. POISONED ARROWS. By MRS. LOVETT CAMERON.

A DEAD PAST. | A NORTH COUNTRY MAID. By DORA RUSSELL. By LADY VIOLET GREVILLE OUT OF EDEN. KEITH'S WIFE. By NELLIE FORTESCUE HARRISON, Author of " So runs mv dream." FOR ONE MAN'S PLEASURE. By EDMUND LEATHES. THE ACTOR'S WIFE. F. V. WHITE __ CO., 31, Southampton Street, Strand, .V.C. Jl -£egen_» of §fyestex, concerning tfye ;>ta.e of $a_-oI&. PRESERVED IN THE HARI.EIAN MS. BRITISH MUSEUM. BY PAENELL GREENE. IN ONE VOLUME. LONDON j i\ V. WHITE & Co., 31, SOUTHAMPTON ST., STEAND, W.C. 1SS6. 1'IUNTED 1!V KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, WO. ; AND MIDDLE MILL, KINGS. ON-ON-THAMKS.

Introduction

. To render a comparatively uninteresting subject a source of amusement for general readers, to the majority of whom the customs, manners, and habits of our Saxon ancestors are sealed books, has been our great aim in this volume ; while for the delectation of the more inquiring we have added a short account of the "Legend " (adopted as suiting the purpose in hand), in the words of Sharon Turner, together with the " Rubrics " and extracts from the original MS. which is to be found among the Harleian Collection now in the British Museum. LEGEND. The Harleian MS., No. 3,776, contains a curious legeiid on Harold, which a review in the second number of " Cochrane's Foreign Quarterly Review" has brought out to public notice. The author, from his expressions in his ninth chapter, seems to have lived about 140 years after the battle of Hastings.* The story he relates is that although Harold was grievously wounded in this battle and to all appearance dead, yet that when those lying in the field were examined by some women searching for their friends, it was discovered that life was still lingering in his body.

By the care of two men of middlings station, whom the MS. calls " francalanus sive agricolas," i.e.. rural franklins, he was secretly moved to Winchester, and was there nursed for two years in a cellario by a woman of the Saracen nation, who was skilled in the art of surgery. Her care restored him to health ; but when he had thus recovered he found that England had every- * " Quo signo in anni circiter centissimi quadragessimi spatium cum arhorem vidimus." (Cap. 9, Harleian MS., 3,776.) f'lnde a duobus, ut fertur, mediocribus viri, quos francalanos sire agricolas vocant agnitus et callide occultatus Wintoniensium deducitur civitatem. Hie biennio latetras in quodam cellario fovens, a quadam muliere genere Sarasena artis cirurgicæ peritissima curatus est et altissimi co-operante medecina ad integerrimam productus sanitatem." (Harleian MS., cap. 5.) (i VI

INTRODUCTION.

. where submitted to William, and that be was too strongly seated on the throne and had such a military command of the country that without foreign aid it would be impossible to dispossess him. Harold sought to interest Saxony to assist him, but finding his application refused, be proceeded to Denmark ; but William had secured the neutrality or friendship of that country. These dis appointments changed the feelings of Harold from ambition or patriotism into those of piety, humiliation, and repentance. He became an altered man both externally and internally. In the hand which had wielded his spear he placed a pilgrim's staff, be exchanged the shield on bis neck for a wallet and his helmet for a humble hat, and with feet half-naked journeyed to Palestine.* He passed many years in his penitential travels and austerities, till age and infirmities induced him to return to England and die in his native land.

He landed at Dover, ascended the cliffs once so well known to him, and contemplated the land he had ruled. But he suppressed his natural and worldly feelings, and concealing his worn features by a cowl, he assumed the name of Christian, and from Kent journeyed on to Shropshire and settled himself in a secluded spot, in the MS. called Ceswrthyn. He constructed himself here a cell, where be lived unknown by any for ten years ; but annoyed by the Welsh, who frequently beat him and stole his clothes, be quitted this abode, though not, says the MS., because he could not endure this affliction, but because he wished to give the rest of his life to meditation and prayer. He wandered thence to Chester, and was supernaturally warned that he would find a residence ready for him at the church of St. John there.

This occurred to him in the chapel of St. James, which the MS. mentions to have been situated on the Dee, beyond the walls of the city, in the cemetery of St. John.f On reaching the spot be found that a former hermit had just died there, and he took possession of his retirement as his successor. Here he remained for seven years, leading a religious eremitical life until bis death. * " Mutatur itaque in Haroldo hominis repente exterioris habitus et interioris affectus. Fulcit quam armare consuevit raanum curtata in baeulum hasta pro clypeo pera collo appenditur, iiltro vertex adumbratur munire galea ornare diadema solebat. Pedes et tyticæ pro sandalis et ocreis vel nudantur funditus vel semicinctus obnubuntur." (Harleian MS cap. 6.) ' t " Vade inquit vir bone ad ecclesiam S. Johannis paratam ibi accipies mansionem" (cap. 15).

INTRODUCTION.

. VII While he was here, some suspicions arose that he had been a distinguished Saxon chief, and he was questioned about it. To such inquiries be returned evasive answers, but never gave a direct answer to those who asked him if he had not been the King of England. He admitted that he had fought at the battle of Hastings, and that no one had been dearer to Harold than himself ; but as death came upon him he revealed the secret, and acknow ledged in his last confession his real dignity. Such is the outline of this ancient narrative. The writer accounts for his own knowledge of these circumstances by stating that he derived them from a venerable anchorite named Sebrecht, who had for many years ministered to Harold and knew bis regal character.* On the king's death, Sebrecht quitted Chester, went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and, returning, fixed himself in the village of Stanton,t in Oxfordshire, where the writer became acquainted with him, and learned these facts concerning Harold from him, and obtained similar information also from others who were worthy of credit.

He declares that Gurth, the brother of Harold, also survived the fatal conflict, and lived to be presented to Henry II. at Wood stock. This Gurth assured Michael, a canon of Waltham, that the monks of his abbey had been deceived as to the body which they bad buried as Harold's. Michael related this fact to the author, and was alive when he wrote his narrative.}: His supplementary chapters contain the statement of the recluse who succeeded Harold in his cell, confirming facts which this individual declares he had received from Moyses,§ the con fidential servant of Harold ; and from Andrew, the priest of the church of St. John, to whom Harold had made his confession. || * " Quidam venerabilis admodum vitæ anchoritæ, nomine Sebrichte, qui viro beato pluribus dum adviveret ministravit annis, alia ab aliis æque fide dignissimis accepimus viris, qui nobis ea hæc certitudine scribenda retule runt quæ esse verissima indubitanter probaverunt."

INTRODUCTION.

INTRODUCTION.

INTRODUCTION.

. X The church of St. John, as well as the Hermit's Cave, are still to be seen ; and the legend of Harold's death at Chester is still treasured up in the memory of its inhabitants among the many records peculiar to the old city. Whether in our choice of it as a subject we have acted wisely or unwisely, dear reader, is for you to judge ; yet if our efforts can while away a pleasant hour, bear with us ; and if on some favourite theme we wax prosier than we would, be lenient, nor forget that " To err is human — to forgive Divine." Yours Faithfully, PARNELL GREENE. ON THE BAMS OF THE DEE.

Chapter I

Twas on a cold wintry evening in the early part of the year 1069 that a small bark might have been seen making its way carefully among the numerous sandbanks lying at the entrance of the Eiver Dee. Through the greater part of the day she had been hovering about the mouth of the estuary as if un willing or afraid to enter, and now, as evening closed in, appeared creeping slowly along the edge of the shoal known as Hoylake East Bank, until opposite the islands ofHilbree.* Arrived there her course was stayed, while without loss of time but with as little bustle as possible a small boat was lowered, which, having received its crew, pulled away for the nearest landing place, a spot speedily reached, as at the time of their entrance into the estuary the tide was about low ebb, when the passengers, consisting of two persons clothed in religious habits, were at once put ashore on the large belt of sand extending on all sides of the islands.

As they landed the boatmen turned their little craft towards the vessel which waited for them in the deeper * Opposite the north-west angle of the peninsula formed by the estuaries of the Dee and Mersey are the two small islands of Hilbree, on the larger of which the monks of St. Werburgh founded a chapel to the Virgin, said to be a place of peculiar sanctity. channel, and on regaining her side at once filled sails and heading seaward disappeared as quickly and as quietly as she had come. As she, however, has no further part to play in our story we will leave her on her watery journey and return to the two persons left on the shore of the peninsula known at the present day as the Hundred of Wirral. For some time the travellers, after landing, remained near the water's edge gazing at the receding bark which had lately been their home, until at length the elder of the two, rousing herself with an effort from the reverie into which she had fallen, commenced to lead the way across the sands towards the island.

But before going further it will be better to describe the personal appearance of our wayfarers. To commence then : the individual already men tioned was a still handsome woman of some sixty summers, but whose wrinkled brow and careworn countenance made her seem older than she really was. Despite her toilworn looks, however, and the uncouth monastic habit which she wore, there was about her an appearance of high birth and breeding, while her voice, though soft and gentle in its tones, betokened one who had been all her life accustomed to command, a circumstance, moreover, confirmed by the air of respect with which her companion listened whenever she chose to address him. This attendant was a tall, handsome youth, whose blue eyes, fair curling hair and complexion, showed his Saxon lineage at a glance.

Like all of his race his face was closely shaven, with the exception of the upper lip,* and the care bestowed upon his personal appear ance, as well as a bold soldier-like air, argued that his dress of a Benedictine monk was only assumed for the nonce as a disguise. Apparently he was well acquainted * This appears to have been the general fashion among the laity, excepting only the serfs. (See Henry's " History of England.") with the part of the country in which they were, for from time to time his companion paused to make inquiries as to their route, or to ask some question concerning the different points of interest on the adjacent shores, to all of which he gave a ready and respectful reply, keeping himself meanwhile somewhat in the rear, so that, without presuming to walk on a level with his fellow-traveller, they could converse easily without her turning round to address him.

Having proceeded for some distance across the shore, attimes labouring painfully through drift almost knee deep or drawing aside to avoid one of the dangerous quicksands so numerous on the Dee, with each of which the younger traveller seemed perfectly familiar, the lady stopping for a moment to take breath, turned toward him, saying : " Tell me, Sebrecht, are these extensive sands known by no name hereabouts ? One would surely imagine that the dwellers on so noble a stream would bestow some appellation on a place dangerous alike to the wayfarer both by land and sea, if only for the purpose of marking so inhospitable a spot, and as a caution to their fellow-mortals." " True, lady," answered Sebrecht, "and it hath chanced that these banks whereon we now walk with so much labour were once the scene of a wondrous interposition on the part of Our Blessed Lady of Hilbree, whereby she saved from death one of her most devoted servants, since which time they have been known as the ' Constable's Sands.' " " Then," replied his companion, " there must be some legend attached to them, and if so, I prithee relate it, for though better versed in the dark galdra* of our northern ancestors than the tenets of the religion to which belong these sad-coloured garments, I * " Galdra," magic. 1—2 would fain hear the story, if only for the purpose of shortening our journey.

But take heed, good Sebrecht, that thy tongue slip not when we chance upon other company. While thus clad I am but Sister Ursula, a poor nun journeying to the shrine of Our Lady of St. Werburgh at Chester, and ill might befall us were it known that Githa, the wife of the great Earl Godwin, and mother of our rightful monarch, were concealed under this habit.* The rising at Exeter, as well as the forays of Edric the Forester, are still fresh in then memories ; and the head that planned and the hand that gave the signal for the Saxon to make another struggle for his liberty are but too well known to our oppressors ; and, moreover," she added, drawing her self up to her full height, " too much dreaded, though it is I who say it, for us to expect aught of mercy at their hands." " Fear not, lady, that I shall obey your commands to the uttermost," answered Sebrecht ; " yet is there so far no cause to dread the marauders, for William the Norman is still in the south busied with preparations for his march.

And if we but prosper on our journey these shavelings may rue the day when they turned their arms westward." " Amen to that ! " answered the Lady Githa — for so for the future we shall call her — " let once more the cry of Harold and Holy Crosse be heard o'er the land, and ground under foot as they are by the rapacious Normans, what Englishman would hold back from the fray ? Ho, ho ! the lion spirit of Harold slumbers for a time, and when the hour shall come, * In the times of which we write, monastic garbs were assumed and pilgrimages mjide simply to cloak the licentiousness of the religious orders, both monks and nuns, who, thus freed from the restraint of the convent walls, threw aside all decency and became notorious for the barefaced manner in which they carried on their intrigues wherever they went.

(See the letter of Boniface, Archbishop of Mentz, to Cuth bert, Archbishop of Canterbury.) woe be to the invaders of his country ! But methinks , Sebrecht, we are approaching our journey's end, so the story of the sands must stand over until the morrow. Here is, at last, firm ground under foot, and yonder, if I mistake not, a mass of ruins which should be the chapel we are in search of. Moreover, I see the figure of a man half hidden by the creeping ivy, as if he would fain note our appearance and strength before showing himself. Say, are we likely to meet more enemies here than we at first expected ? " " No, lady," answered the young man, " there are none hereabouts but friends, and even the broken bands of our own countrymen would respect the Lady Githa. But this wealth of caution on the part of yonder watchers should betoken something to have happened since last I saw the place, and bodes no good to our onward journey; for well I wot, Levenot the Borsholder* would never receive an old friend so, and therefore will, with thy leave, go ahead and inquire into the matter."

So saying, he advanced and presently hailed the individual in hiding : " What ho ! Levenot, is it thou, man ? Why this pre caution ? Dost take us for Normans, or have the Welsh wolves been showing their fangs again ? Come and tell us what hath happened, and offer thy best welcome to the Lady Githa ! Surely she is not the enemy thou fearest?" " Truly no," answered this personage, a stout, fierce looking carle, armed with a knife and long oaken staff, stepping quickly forth to make his obeisance with all due respect. " Nor is this our usual method of receiving such honoured guests. But our welcome, though * The Saxon system of police is somewhat remarkable. All under the rank of thane were divided into hundreds and tithings. The chief of a tithing was the Borsholder, from bohr, surety. For further infor mation, see Note rude, is better than the one ye might have received had ye been here yester e'en."

" How so ? " inquired Sebrecht anxiously. " Can the Normans have reached so far already? 'Tis but a short month since we parted, and well I wot that Rhywallon is hand and glove with Earl Edric, and even Blethyn-ap-Cynfin hath entered into terms of peace to assist in clearing the land of these scurvy invaders. Speak, man ! and quickly ; remember the safety of the Lady Githa is in our hands, and not to be lightly risked." " Peace, Sebrecht," exclaimed Githa, joining in, and waving him to silence, "thou forgettest the object of our journey, and that to succeed fully, not only ordinary dangers, but life itself would I cheerfully risk. Yet say, good ceorl," she continued, turning to Levenot, " what is it that threatens us ? Let us hear the whole, for peril discovered is half averted. Speak fearlessly, and if it be pressing let us at least determine beforehand the best way to avert the evil ; if not, how we can best escape from it."

"Now, may Our Lady of Hilbree forbid, gracious dame ! " answered Sevenot, " that any danger should menace thee here. But of a truth the land is in an unsettled state, and bands of marauders are scouring the country, chiefly broken men, who pillage right and left without mercy. Some of these, no later than yester e'en, made an attack upon our hamlet, and but that they were stoutly opposed would have left us little save our lives — and even they would scarce have been worth the having, for the Bristol slave merchants, what between the Normans and these outlaws, are carrying on a thriving trade. As it was, we made head against them, having had an inkling of their intentions, and drove them off with some loss to themselves, but I fear me there are many more like them not far off, who only wait for an opportunity to plunder ; for many of them ON THE BASKS OF THE DEE. 7 care little whether it is friend or foe that they rob provided they are the gainers.

So, when I saw your vessel bearing into the river I thought it wise to reconnoitre before showing myself. Moreover, having Father Andrew with me, the holy man insisted that I should not adventure my life rashly ; and although I assured him of there being no peril when I saw only two persons land and the ship make sail, yet he besought me so earnestly to stay that I could not refuse to remain by him. But the night draws apace, lady, and I would we were in a more secure place than this, for if these law less men should come upon us at a disadvantage, I fear the protection of Our Lady, potent as it is, would scarce save us." " Lead on then, good ceorl, where thou wilt," said Githa ; " but tell me, I prithee, whither we are going, for I am weary, and would fain rest." " 'Tis but a short half mile to the mainland, and there in Melas awaits the best cheer, though humble, that we can offer thee, lady," replied Levenot.

" Nay," answered Githa, " the entertainment, how ever lowly, if offered with good will, is better than any feast ; and of late, having lodged hard and fared worse, we are not so dainty that we can afford to despise the comforts of a roof and well-covered board. So lead the way, and we will follow." " With right good will," replied the Borsholder, " the more so that the tide is making, and unless we hurry we shall not pass the sands to-night ; but first I must call the good priest who came with me hither ; for since the death of the late hermit the cell hath been abandoned, and Father Andrew is scarce the man to prefer a hard stone, or perchance a bed of leaves and no supper, to a warm fireside and full cheer." So saying, he disappeared into the low stone cell or chapel* standing on the larger island of Hilbree, * See Note dedicated to the Virgin, which from its supposed sanctity enjoyed no little reputation, and at a later date brought a considerable revenue to the monks of St. Werburgh, though just then, owing to troublous times, it was all but deserted.

Presently he emerged, followed by a short, stout figure clothed in the habit of a Carmelite, who was greeted by our travellers as an old acquaintance. The newcomer was in appearance a perfect type of a jolly priest of that period— another Friar Tuck, in fact, but without his lawless propensities. A sleek, well-fed appearance, coupled with a merry blue eye and a lurking smile, which, even in his gravest moments, he seemed scarcely able to conceal, showed that the life of an ascetic was by no means congenial to his tastes. Unlike most of the priests of the time, his stock of learning* was toler able, and certain scraps of Latin in addition to that abso lutely necessary for repeating his offices, he was fond of parading, while the pompous manner in which a quotation was applied was delightfully refreshing as well to himself as to his hearers.

Yet with all this, there was about him an air which betokened a higher station than his humble garb suggested, a suspicion, too, which the respectful attention of those near him corroborated. "Benedicite! my children," he exclaimed as he appeared. " May Our most Blessed Lady afford ye protection against the snares of the Evil One. Of a surety ye have travelled fast, yea, summa, diligentid, inasmuch as ye have already reached this holy spot. As yet your arrival hath not been looked for, but thanks to the care of Our Lady, ye are here safe and sound, though I would I had on my part more cheering news to offer to ye." " Enough, good father ! " interrupted Githa, motioning to him for silence ; " on that score we will talk anon. * See Note I. But how now, Ceorl Levenot, thou seemest somewhat impatient ?

" " That am I, lady, and with good cause," he replied abruptly. " See ye not how the wind is rising and hath been doing so since sunset ? Moreover, the turn of the tide is close at hand. Of a truth, we shall scarce cross dry shod unless we hasten, for with this wind to help it, a horse could scarce go faster than doth the rising water on these shores. Even the Humber can hardly be more dangerous,* for quicksands abound, and the very spot on which we now stand will, ere the good father can say a dozen aves, be a yawning pitfall out of which none may escape if once engulfed. There fore, hasten, I beseech }^e, after me, while I lead the way. Do thou, Sebrecht, support thy mistress, and I will lend a hand to the priest should he require assistance." Urged by the earnest manner more even than by the words of Levenot, the whole party at once started with as much speed as they could make, Sebrecht supporting the Lady Githa, while ever and anon ex changing a word with Levenot as to their course, which grew more devious every moment, as the rising tide made the sands here and there dangerous to cross.

Wearied at length by what seemed to him a useless lengthening of their way, the good father, who found his breath come short, and ease and good living tell considerably against him in this hurried march, ad dressed their guide : "Verily, Levenot, it seemeth to me thou art lengthening our journey needlessly by this continual turning and twisting. There was no need for it when we crossed from the mainland but an hour since, and wherefore should there be now ? Moreover, if mine eyes deceive me not, we have but this instant again turned from our course, and in place of crossing are making * See Note IVT. our way toward that very tide of which thou professedst such fear, though as yet I cannot see aught of the same." "To see it, father," interrupted Levenot, "were scarce possible when so little light is left, but a tide on the Dee is a thing to be felt before it is seen.

Know ye not that under our very feet the water hath been busy, though we see nought of it here on the surface ? Mark ye not how the sand trembleth at times, as if scarce able to bear our weight ? And though we are even now making our way towards the sea, I wot well that it is to avoid a certain death, which would be our lot else." " How sayest thou ? Certain death ! " answered the priest testily ; " when the path is fair and sound to the shore ! Why not take it instead of following this track, in which we sink ankle-deep at each step, or where our feet are hurt by gravel and huge stones ? " " The fairest path is not always the best, father," replied Levenot ; " and the spot which appeareth so firm and smooth is but a quicksand called ' The Danes' Grave,'* the most dangerous there is on this side of the river.

Nay, an' thou believest me not, take yon pebble, and throw it a short cast from thee and see what follows. But no nearer, no nearer, on thy life ! We are now as close to the edge as prudence permits." While he yet spoke the priest had stooped, and taking a large stone in his hand cast it from him a short distance, when, to his surprise, instead of meeting with any resistance from what appeared to be the firm, hard bank, it sank at once with a strange half thud, half plunge. Splashes of wet sand were thrown up. Then over the whole surface a shiver seemed to pass, and when they looked again the stone was no more to be * They were defeated about this spot by " Ye Ladie of Morcia," a.d. 909, with great slaughter. She was wife of Ethelred first Earl of Mercia, and daughter of Alfred. OS" THE BASKS OF THE DEE. 11 seen, but where it disappeared lay the sand, to all appearance as firm and as smooth as ever.

" Heaven and Our Lady preserve us ! " exclaimed the priest, starting back in alarm, "and pardon me the sin of doubting her saving care as well as thy word. Of a truth we are in the midst of many and great dangers, Periculosœ plenum opus aleœ* and I would that we were safely out of them ! Tell me, I prithee, is the path much longer?" For answer Levenot pointed before him to a large dip in the sands. " Yonder," said he, " is the main stream, and beyond that the shore riseth steeply, so that if we can cross in safety, we shall have left the last of our troubles behind ; but we must hasten on, or I fear we may find it somewhat hazardous. Hast breath left to run, father ? Here, take my hand, and try if thy legs will not move as fast as thy tongue can at mass." So saying he seized his wrist, and shouting to Sebrecht to follow his example, set off at as quick a pace as the portly figure of Father Andrew could be urged to.