_Of the Hunting of the Ring_
Now, after that Wulnoth and his companions had set forth on their
journey into Devonshire, the Danes, who were led by Guthrun and
Hungwar, began to press on, spreading over the whole face of the
country, searching for King Alfred, whom they were determined to
capture and put to death.
At first, hidden away amidst the marshes of Athelney, he was fairly
safe; but bit by bit the forces drew nearer and surrounded the whole
place; and they who tarried with the King knew not what to do, for they
liked not to leave their monarch and seek their own safety, and yet
they saw that did they tarry long, so large a band would be certain to
draw the attention of their foe to their retreat.
More than that, it became increasingly difficult for them to obtain
supplies of food without being discovered, and so their hearts sank
within them, and they felt that the battle was lost, and that the cause
of their Lord would fall and the pagan worship of the Norse gods be
established.
And Alfred the King pondered over this, for he also saw these things,
and he knew that his few were trusty and loyal, and would sooner perish
with him than desert him in his hour of need.
So he called a council of his most wise and devoted thanes, and to that
council came also Osburga his mother; and there, in the dreary and
deserted marshland, they sat round their fire and talked of what should
best be done.
"The Danes are as the leaves," they said, "and for one killed many
come. Who can deliver us from them?"
Then said Abbot Hugoline, and he spoke in calm tones, as a man who had
faith in that which he said--
"O thanes, and you our royal Alfred, let us not be downcast; for if
no earthly power can aid us, still God is able to deliver us from the
Danes, as he delivered his servant Daniel from the lions, and the three
Hebrew children from the raging fiery furnace."
"Thou art right, Abbot," answered the King, "and while we have him to
look to, we will not despair. Now this is my rede--Here together we
cannot tarry, since our numbers will betray us, and our foe is too
powerful for us to stand against. We must separate--"
"Nay, now nay, O King," they cried. "We will not leave you."
"Now hear me," answered the King. "If I never more might have need of
you, I might say tarry here and let us make an end of our misfortunes
and die as men should. But I do need you--I shall need you to fight
with me for this our country and for our faith. For a little while the
clouds darken our sky, but presently the time will come, and we shall
need all the aid we can obtain."
"The Wanderer and his men have deserted us," murmured some; but the
King answered that Wulnoth had done what he wished all to do; he had
gone to gather men, and prepare for the time when they might take the
field again.
"This is what ye must all do," he said, "disperse, and go each his own
way; and to all true men give greeting, and bid them prepare weapons
and hide them away, and be ready to hasten to our standard when the
summons shall come."
"Now the King's word is a wise word," said old Osburga, and all there
listened with reverence to her words, not only because she was the
King's mother, but because she was wise. "Let his commands be obeyed,
and let us part one from another."
"But, noble lady, what of you and the Queen and the noble maidens who
have shared our trials and wanderings?" asked Osric. And the King said--
"Of that I have thought. My mother and my wife, and the ladies with
them, must journey with the Abbot here to a retreat of which he knows,
where they will be safe. 'T is not far hence; and if need be I can
communicate with them."
So, though it grieved the hearts of them all, and seemed like the
giving up of their defence, the Saxons said that the King's word must
be obeyed; and in stern sorrow they prepared to depart, each with his
few followers going his own way; all save Osric, who tarried with the
King as his companion.
"Now shall we be safer," said the King, "two can live securely where a
score would be in peril. Farewell, dear friends, and lose not heart nor
faith."
So the King embraced his wife, and received his mother's blessing, and
clasped hands with his friends; and then, when the mists of the evening
stole over the land, they all departed, each taking his own way through
the marshlands, and leaving the King and Osric alone.
And that the King's word was a wise word was proved; for the next day
came bands of Danes, and the King and Osric were hidden in the marsh,
lying in the mud and covered with the rushes; and they watched the foe
come to the place where they had tarried, and make search, and give the
huts to the fire, and then go away angry and disappointed; for they had
no thought that the King had taken warning and fled.
And Hungwar and Guthrun were told; and loud did they curse in their
fury, and they ordered that bands should go in every direction, and
search night and day, giving orders to all the Saxon churls that
remained that if they saw the King they were to seize him and deliver
him up, else otherwise they should be put to the torture, and their
wives and children sold into slavery, and their roofs given to the
flames.
Little did Guthrun and his companion know the stout hearts of the West
Saxons; for those very threats only made the churls sullenly defiant,
and determined that in no case would they betray their King, did they
chance to meet with him.
Moreover, the Saxons learnt that the retreat at Athelney had been
betrayed by a knave; and him they caught and hanged on a tree, and thus
did they pay him for taking Danish gold and betraying Alfred the King.
Now, for many days did Alfred and Osric wander; and the King was hunted
hither and thither like a beast of the forest, and often compelled
to flee; and his illness pressed sore upon him, yet his courage was
undaunted, and his faith clear; and often when he lay alone with Osric
in the fens, he would discourse with him concerning the fleet he was
determined to build when the Danes were conquered and England free
again.
"Thou art sure that England shall be free again, O King?" Osric said.
And the King replied, "As certain as I am that the sun will rise
to-morrow."
And thus did the King fare all the days that Wulnoth was away; and only
twice did he manage to see his wife and mother for a short space; but
he heard by faithful messengers how his companions prospered in their
work, and how all over the land the Saxons were saying that if the King
would only come forth from his hiding and lead them, they would risk
striking another blow at the foe beneath whose cruel rule the land
groaned.
But the King still tarried for a little, for he wanted his friends
to gather all they could; and he desired that the Danes should grow
over-confident, thinking that all opposition was gone, and thus relax
their vigilance.
And it chanced that one day Alfred the King came to a rude hut hidden
away in a desolate place, where dwelt a poor neatherd, alas now with
but few cattle to attend, and those he had to hide away in the middle
of the marshland, else they had surely been stolen by the enemy.
"Now, Osric, my friend," said Alfred, "I must to-day receive tidings
from Hugoline. Go thou and glean them, and I will abide here. I will
seek shelter with these good people, and tarry for your return."
"Will they not betray you?" asked Osric, for he knew of the Danes'
words to the peasants. But the King smiled and answered--
"Who would know in this poor way-worn wanderer the King of Wessex? My
very misery makes me safe, friend. Go, and rest satisfied that I may
tarry here in security."
So Osric went; and Alfred approached the cottage and knocked with his
staff, and then, waiting, he heard sounds of strife within, and a woman
railing at some one, and he said to himself--
"We have a shrewish tongue here, a weapon that the bravest man may well
fear."
Then the door opened, and a man looking somewhat flurried, appeared,
and asked what he might want.
"I beg for a shelter and a little food," said the King. And then a
woman appeared, and cried shrilly that they had little enough for
themselves, and that they had no wish to bestow that on thriftless
wanderers who were doubtless too lazy to work for their living.
"Turn him away, goodman," she said to her husband. "Turn him away, and
let him taste thy cudgel."
Now the man looked as though he would have liked to admit the King; and
as Alfred was turning to go, he touched him slyly, and, thrusting his
tongue into his cheek, he said aloud--
"Yes, indeed, get you gone, rogue. Dost think that we will harbor such
as thou art? Most like thou hast been serving with the King; and the
Danes have ordered us to give no aid to any such."
And then he received a sounding smack on his cheek; and his wife, her
eyes flashing with anger, cried--
"Now out on thee for a nithing! Shall we indeed be ordered about by
the Danes? I would I had them here, I would trounce them with my besom
handle. Art thou going to turn one of our own countrymen from the door
because the Danes ordered it, forsooth? Thou hadst better do as a true
man should, and hasten to find the King, and offer him thy service.
There, get to thy work; tending cattle is all thou art fit for; and as
for thee, stranger, come in and tarry; and not all the Danes in the
land shall direct what I am to do."
"'T was the only way to get over her," whispered the man, with a grin.
"Nay, never mind for the clout I received, I am pretty used to her
hand. Well, thou hast got to stay with her to-day, and not I, and her
temper is waspish--the Lord save thee from her tongue, and grant she
may be better tempered when I return this evening."
So Alfred went in, and the woman snapped out, as if half repenting
of her kindness, that he must make himself useful and bring her in
kindlings.
This Alfred did right willingly; and the woman having mended her fire,
set her rude loaves to bake before the embers.
"Now you can tarry and watch that they burn not," she said, "and turn
them as they need it; for I have my work to think of."
"You may trust them to me, good dame," the King said. "'T is meet that
he who eats of the bread should aid in its preparing."
Then the woman went out, and the King sat there, and for a while he
thought of the bread; but presently he began to think of his unhappy
kingdom, and of how the Danes were crushing it, and to ponder upon the
best way to vanquish the foe.
He thought of all the places where battle might be most advantageously
given, and he began, in thought, to fight his battles, until a strange
smell assailed his nostrils; and he started up to see that the loaves,
which he had so solemnly promised to watch, were all scorched and
blackened.
And then the dame, also smelling the burnt bread, came running in; and
if ever a woman scolded, that woman did, calling the King lazy, and
idle, and good for nothing, and saying that all men were alike; for
whether they be Saxon or Dane, of old time or of new, when goodwives
are angry, they scold and call men good for nothing.
And the King took it meekly, for indeed he was sorry that he had broken
his word, and yet he could not tell her how it chanced. Indeed he felt
that even if he could have done that, it would have been no excuse; for
having given his word, he ought to have kept it, and not have suffered
his thoughts to wander.
And the woman in her anger seized her stick and struck the King; and
just at that moment the door opened, and in came Wulnoth and Osric; for
Osric had met Wulnoth as he returned, and the Wanderer was searching
for the King; and together they had come on.
And Wulnoth gave a cry of surprise, and grabbed hold of the woman,
who turned her anger on him, crying out that she knew they were all
robbers, but that some of them should have broken heads ere they robbed
her.
"Tush, woman, no robbers we," said Wulnoth, as he grabbed her hands,
for she had scratched his face with her nails. "Come, dame, what woman
art thou to strike thy King?"
"The King!" cried the woman in dismay; and then she fell on her knees
and cried for pardon; ending by saying that, King or not, he had no
right to let her bread burn when he had promised to mind it.
"That for the bread," began Wulnoth, but the King stopped him--
"Nay, nay, Wanderer, 't is I who am to blame, and I deserved all the
scolding which I have received. Dame, I crave your pardon; rise and
look not so dismayed; and if ever the sun shines in this poor land
again, thou shalt not be sorry for having let the King sit by thy
hearth, even if he has spoilt thy loaves."
Then did the King turn to Wulnoth and ask him where he had been, and
what had been his fortune, and what it was he carried. And Wulnoth
laughed and answered--
"A present for thee, O King. Say how thou dost like it," and he
unrolled the great raven banner which he had captured, and told the
King of how the Danes were routed, and how Borric was busy gathering
all the men of Devon to come to his aid.
And Osric had good tidings also, that they of Somerset and Dorset and
Hampshire (that is how we call the places now--of course in those days
the names were different) were all ready to come when he summoned them;
and all were eager to have another cast at their foe, and to strike for
freedom and the Lord's faith.
And then did Alfred the King kneel down and the tears ran down his
cheeks, and he thanked God for His goodness and mercy, and offered
praise to Him for His greatness and majesty.
And Wulnoth looked and listened; and then a great feeling came to him
that the King's God was the true God, and that the Lord Christ was the
real Lord, and that he was a sinner who needed the pardon of which he
had heard; and he knelt down, he who had knelt to no God before, and he
said--
"O King, I seem to see dimly, as one who looks at the sun. I have found
the mightiest and greatest, and he is the White Christ, and Him will I
love and serve, and be his man."
And the King looked up and smiled, and he said--
"Now truly do I rejoice, Wanderer. I have found hope anew, and courage;
and shall perchance find my crown and kingdom; but thou hast found a
better thing--a crown and a kingdom that shall forever endure."
Now, this is how the King wandered as an outcast, and this is how the
loaves were burnt, and this is how Wulnoth brought the banner to the
King, and how he found the mightiest and the bravest of all.