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Updated: May 13, 2025
Dugdale’s ‘British Traveller’—with its eventful history, imparts the strongest interest to the town of Framlingham. Tradition refers its origin to the sixth century, and ascribes it to Redwald, one of the early Saxon monarchs. St. Edmund the Martyr fled hither in 870, and was besieged by the Danes, who took Framlingham and held it fifty years. The Norman King gave the castle to the Bigods.
I fear that the Danes are on us." Then she cowered back into the shadow and said nought, for the very word terrified her when she knew her foes were so near. But Sister Sexberga came to the door, and she was pale enough, though her face lacked no courage. "What shall we do, Redwald thane?" she said quickly. "Keep a brave heart, sister," I answered, "and let me manage all.
"And I trust he has obtained a better kingdom," added Redwald; "he must, you know, if the monks tell the truth, so why should we weep for him?" "At least," said Edwy, looking up, "Elfric need not go home now." "No, certainly not, but he had better disappear from court for a time. The lady Ethelgiva might afford him hospitality, or he might stay at the royal palace at Kingston.
And so it came to pass that I, Redwald, son of Siric, the Thane of Bures, stood at the gate of our courtyard and watched my father and our sturdy housecarles and freemen ride away down the hill and across the winding Stour river to join the great levy at Colchester.
A loud and vigorous blast of horns was blown, while the greater part of the troop dismounted and paused impatiently for an answer from within. "Two or three of you step forward with your axes," exclaimed Redwald. They did so, and thundered on the gate without any success, so stoutly was it made. "What can it mean?" said Redwald. "All is silent as the grave."
And all the while those two words that came to me as I talked to Relf grew plainer, and seemed to ring in my ears unspoken, "Landless and luckless landless and luckless," for that was what it all came to. Then Uldra looked at me and saw the trouble in my face, and took what seemed to her to be the only way to help me. "You cannot think of these matters now, Redwald," she said softly.
"To the stables and call my men," I whispered to the goldsmith, pointing to the door which led thither, and he went out slowly, not knowing why I sent him. "Where is Redwald, Olaf's man?" the newcomer said, and his tone was so rough that at the uncivil words I glanced at him sharply and made no answer. He was fully armed, I saw. But my follower would not bear this.
At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his followers nearly a hundred in number leave the castle and ride across towards the forest in the direction of the farm in question. Another moment and Father Cuthbert entered. "Are you ready? If so, follow me."
Her brother, Edwin, he drove into exile, and the young prince found refuge at the court of Redwald of East Anglia, where he remained for some years.
She sunk her voice very low, and bent a little towards me. "Were his words pleasant and fair spoken?" she said. "They could not have been more so at the last," I replied, the memory of my anger coming back to me of a sudden. "You crossed him once, then?" "But a little; he crossed me rather," I said plainly. "Wear your mail, Redwald," she said whisperingly. "Farewell."
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