The Boy Captives

Five hundred years had passed.

Long ago the Romans had left Britain; and another people had come from across the sea to conquer the country and drive its inhabitants to take refuge in Wales and Cornwall.

Britain had now become England. The English in these days were very fierce heathens, who loved fighting, and were never at peace. The country was divided into a number of little kingdoms, which were always at war with one another, for each king wanted to be more powerful than any other in the land.

While England was in this state of continual warfare, the kingdom of Deira in the north was invaded by a band of raiders from a neighbouring kingdom called Bernicia. Not finding any one at hand to resist them, the Bernicians began to lay waste the country as they passed. All the men of that neighbourhood seemed to be absent that day; and there was no one to give the alarm as the invaders destroyed the young crops and killed or drove away the cattle which were grazing upon the waste land.

Presently the party came upon a little village, lying peacefully nestled on the hill-side. It was evening, and the smoke was rising tranquilly into the air, while the men and boys were driving the cows home for the evening milking.

Little did the raiders care about the quiet beauty of the scene. With a shout, they bore down upon the village. The inhabitants did their best to defend themselves; but being unprepared and armed for the most part only with clubs and ploughshares, they were quickly overpowered. Some escaped to the woods, while those who were not active enough to run away were either slain or made prisoners.

Soon flames were bursting from the walls and roofs of the cottages, which their destroyers had set on fire after removing everything that was worth carrying away.

When the captives were brought in, they were found to be mostly old people, together with some trembling children, whose parents were lost or slain.

"Those," said the leader, pointing to the white-haired men and woman, "are no good. What do we want with old folk? -But these," he added, pointing to the children, "you may keep. They will grow into fine strong men by and by."

The children were bound hand and foot to prevent them from running away; and after posting sentries to keep a lookout, the raiders sat down to feast upon some of the slaughtered cattle, which they had roasted before the flames of the burning houses.

Suddenly one of the outposts called out to say there was something in the distance which looked like a band of armed men.

"Ay, ay," said the leader; "time we made the best of our way homeward. Our big bonfire is bright enough to bring the whole countryside upon us."

Hastily collecting their spoil, the raiders looked about for their horses. Each prisoner was made to mount beside one of his captors, and soon the whole band was trotting away in the gathering darkness.

It was in vain that the boys strained their eyes to look behind. Either they had not yet been missed, or else their rescuers had not found out the direction which the spoilers had taken.

The few people whom they passed, wood cutters or cow-herds on their way home from the day's work, only looked on helplessly as the troop swept by, band were unable to do anything. Once, seeing a man whom he knew, one of the boys cried out for help, but his captor roughly bade him be silent.

In a little while they were in the land of the Bernicians, and the children were handed over to the families of their captors, to work in the house and in the fields.

They were not unkindly treated, and after a while they began to feel less unhappy. Often when they met together in the evening, after the day's work was done, they would make plans for running away as soon as they should be grown up, and returning to their own old home in Deira.

But they were never to see their native village again.

One day a rich merchant came to Bernicia, a man who traded with the far-away countries of Gaul and Italy, and the children were brought for him to see.

The merchant looked at the rosy faces and strong limbs of the boys.

"They"ll do," he said; "I"ll take the lot. One of my ships is just starting for Italy, and they can go on board. The Roman ladies like fine boys like these to wait upon them. It is waste to keep such lads to work in our rough homesteads when we can get gold for them from the Romans."

A large sum of money was handed over to the owners of the children; and then the boys had to follow their new master to the seashore, where a vessel was in waiting.

No kind parents or friends were near, to bid good-bye to these poor children as they embarked. They were led on board and given into the charge of the captain and seamen of the vessel. Presently the sails were unfurled, and the vessel left the shore, the men singing as they worked. No one paid any attention to the poor children as they stood on deck and sorrowfully watched the shores of England grow farther and farther away, until they became lost in the distance.

The little captives felt very sad indeed. Had they known that they were about to become the means of bringing happiness and peace to their native land, perhaps they might not have felt so desolate as they did.

After what seemed to them a very long voyage, they were taken to the great slave-market in Rome.

The children clung together in confusion and fear as they looked around at the bewildering scene.

Groups of buyers and sellers were there, talking in an unknown language. There were many other slaves for sale; men, women, and children; white, black, and brown; brought together from many parts of the world. People in strange bright dresses were always passing; some coming to buy slaves, some to meet their friends, and others out of mere curiosity. In all the careless, chattering crowd there was not one face that seemed friendly towards the poor strangers from across the sea.

Presently the boys remarked among the gay throng an old man who seemed quite different from the rest. He wore a plain dark gown, with sandals on his feet. A long silvery beard flowed nearly to his girdle; and the boys liked his face, with its kind, benevolent expression.

This was the monk Gregory, who was loved by all the people of Rome for his simple goodness of heart.

As the old man passed through the hall he looked pityingly at the poor people who were waiting to be sold. When he came to the English boys he paused, struck by their beautiful rosy faces, fair hair, and rounded limbs.

"Who are these children?" he asked the trader who was standing beside them.

"They are Angles," replied the trader.

"Surely not Angles, but angels," said Gregory; "for they have the faces of angels."

He looked at them again very thoughtfully, and asked the trader whether these children were Christians.

"No, sir," replied the merchant; "the Angles are heathens, and have a very cruel religion."

"What a pity, what a pity!" said the good monk. "What is the name of their country?"

"They come from a place called Deira," said the trader.

"Ira" is the Latin word for wrath; and Gregory seemed to find a meaning in all the names connected with these angel-faced children.

"De ira," he said; "ay, from the wrath of God they shall be called to Christ's mercy.-And what is the name of their King?" he inquired.

"Ella," replied the merchant.

"Ella!" cried the monk; "Alleluia shall be sung in Ella's land"; and he passed on his way with a silent vow that one day he would find a means of teaching the English people to become Christians.

Here the history of these children ends, so far as we know it. The old writer who tells us of the meeting of the monk Gregory with the captive children does not say what became of them after this. Surely they found good masters and happy homes; for it was through them that the Good News was brought to their native land, and that the people learned to live peaceably in a united country.

After he left the slave-market the thought of these fair-faced boys followed Gregory wherever he went. He thought of many plans, and at last he resolved, old as he was, to undertake the long journey to the savage country of England and to teach the true religion to its inhabitants. But when the Roman people found that he was going to leave them, they begged Gregory so hard to stay that he made up his mind that he could not go away into a heathen country while he was so badly needed by his own people at home.

Still he had no rest when he thought that the English were living and dying as heathens. About four years after the meeting with the boys, he was made Pope, and then he saw that his opportunity was come.

A band of forty monks, with an Abbot of the name of Augustine at their head, was chosen by Pope Gregory for the conversion of England.

In those days the journey from Rome to England was a long and perilous one. Slowly the monks made their way through Italy and Switzerland, staying sometimes at the monasteries on their way. At last they were in Gaul, and were able to gain some information about the fierce and warlike people whom they had been sent to convert.

In an abbey...