of the warriors reached home; for
in those days the agony of suspense had always to be endured in the
absence of posts and telegrams; but after a few weeks a special
messenger came from the army. He was one of the Aescendune people, and
his was the great privilege of embracing wife and family once more ere
returning to the perils of the field.

His news was brief. The forces of Mercia had been placed under the
command of Edric, formerly the sheriff of the county in which
Aescendune lay, but long since returned to court, where his smooth
tongue gained him great wealth and high rank. Gifted with a subtle
genius and persuasive eloquence, he had obtained a complete ascendency
over the mind of the weak Ethelred, while he surpassed even that
treacherous monarch in perfidy and cruelty.

Under his direction that unhappy king had again and again embrued his
hands in innocent blood. This very year they had both given a proof of
these tendencies worth recording.

Edric had conceived a hatred against the Ealdorman Elfhelm, which he
carefully concealed. He invited that unfortunate lord to a banquet at
Shrewsbury, where he welcomed him as his intimate friend. On the third
or fourth day of the feast he took him to hunt in a wood where he had
prepared an ambuscade, and while all the rest were engaged in the
chase, the common hangman of Shrewsbury, one Godwin "port hund," or
the town's hound, bribed by Edric to commit the crime, sprang from
behind a bush, and foully assassinated the innocent ealdorman. Not to
be behind his favourite in cruelty, Ethelred caused the two sons of
the unfortunate Elfhelm to be brought to him at Corsham, near Bath,
where he was then residing, and he ordered their eyes to be put out.

Such was the man to whom the destinies of the English army were now
confided, and such the king who ruled the unhappy land--cruel as he
was cowardly.

Under such leaders it is no marvel that the messenger Ulric had no
good news to tell. The army had assembled, and had marched after the
Danes, whose policy for the present was to avoid a pitched battle, and
to destroy their enemies in detail. So they were continually harassing
the English forces, but avoiding every occasion of fair fight. Did the
English march to a town under the impression the Danes were about to
attack it, they found no foe, but heard the next day that some
miserable district at a distance had been cruelly ravaged. Did they
lie in ambush, the Danes took an