Early the next day Adiva and Egwina started for the cottage of the
foster-mother of Denewulf, Gunnehilde, the Danish woman.
It was not without misgivings that Egwina accompanied the dame, but the
latter laughed away her fears.
"Wicca is Gunnehilde in truth," she said, "but pleasant spoken. Fair
will be her greeting, and I wot that thou wilt like her." So calming her
fears, Egwina fell in with the mood of her companion, and a brisk walk
soon brought them to the dwelling of the woman.
It was built in the centre of a knoll in a glade of the forest, and
seemed in appearance not unlike the rude huts occupied by the
swineherds, except that it was more compact. The turf was not
intersected with twigs, as were those of the Saxons, but placed
compactly against a firm foundation of board. Adiva knocked on the door
while Egwina devoutly crossed herself.
"Enter," said a voice as the door was thrown open. "Enter, Adiva!
Greetings to thee, and to the stranger, also, whom thou bringest with
thee. With the rise of the sun knew I that thou wouldst come, and bring
the maiden with thee."
Again the maiden crossed herself. Adiva went into the dwelling without
hesitation, and the girl followed, although with fear and trembling. But
there was naught displeasing to the eye, nor anything that would inspire
awe in the room. The woman who welcomed them was tall and commanding in
appearance. Her hair was dark as the raven's wing. Her brow was
thoughtful, and her eyes, dark also, shone with the calm, steady light
of a student. In her right hand she carried a wand, the seid-staff of
Scandinavian superstition.
"Sit thee here, wife of Denewulf," she said to the dame. "And thou,
maiden, be seated upon this bench, where the light may fall upon thy
brow. I would see where the Fylgia (tutelary divinity), whom Alfadur
gave thee, leads thee. Thou hast come to consult the runes?"
She made the statement more as a declaration than a question. Without
waiting for a reply she went on:
"I knew that ye would be here. When the sun rose I awoke and placed all
things in readiness for ye."
"Gunnehilde," spake Adiva, "the maiden hath had a dream. Thou wottest
that it is somewhat in my ken to unravel such, but I feared to give what
it seemed to me to portend."
"Dreams are oracles more potent than wicca can charm with wand or rune,"
spake Gunnehilde. "Unfold it, and let me read the rede. Prophetic are
the visions of the night."
Timidly Egwina told the dream. The Danish woman listened, leaning her
head on her staff, her eyes never leaving the maiden's face. When she
had finished there was silence for a few moments, and then the wicca
raised her head, and her eyes glowed strangely.
"Maiden, no runes have I graven for thee on the bark of elm, nor
Scinlaeca (spirits of the departed) have I called from the graves of the
dead; but easy is it to read thy rede. Listen! for Skulda hath passed
into the soul of her servant, and fast doth thy fate run from her lips.
Thy vision portendeth great honors to thee. None greater than thou shall
live in the land. Retainers many shall be thine, with honor and riches
also. After thee shall thy son come, and he shall be more glorious than
thou. All men shall look up to him and bow before him for his greatness
and wisdom. Dangers will be thine, many and dire; but the web of thy
fate is spun. Heed well; speed well. And forget not the bode of the
wicca. Thou shalt truly come to thy glory. Hail to thee! Hail to thee!
Gunnehilde hath spoken."
She arose and bowed thrice before the trembling maiden.
"But what dost thou mean?" inquired the girl when she could command her
voice. "What glory is it that shall be mine? I fear that I do not
understand."
"Thou hast no further need of galdra or witchcraft. Bright is the woof
of thy fate. The skein of thy life is interwoven with those who are
great. No need is there for thee to consult the runes. Ask no more of
the wicca. Glorious will be thy last hours."
Egwina dared ask no more. Gunnehilde brought forth meat and drink and
placed it before them.
"Eat and drink," she said, "ere ye go back to your abode. Busy will ye
be from this on, and ye shall both have need of your strength. Many they
be who come to your dwelling."
"Dear heart!" cried Adiva in some anxiety. "Howsomever I can manage with
more, I cannot see!"
"Adiva, thou hast not asked me to read the runes for thee, but I have
done so. Give greeting to Denewulf, and hail, thrice hail to the
stranger whom ye have harbored."
"Tell me, good wicca," said the dame, "who is he? Of gentle blood, I
dare say, for he hath the port of such. Denewulf hath become wrapped up
in him, and Egwina is no better. Tell me of him."
The woman looked at the maiden with a curious, intent glance, and then
said abruptly:
"Through him will thy fate change. 'Tis for the weal of thy house,
Adiva, that thou hast sheltered him. Ere the set of sun, shalt thou know
who and what he is. Even now, do friends seek him in thine abode."
"Marry!" ejaculated Adiva. "In my dwelling at this moment, sayest thou?
Egwina, 'twere best that we were going."
She rose as she spoke, and Gunnehilde rose also. An arch smile parted
Egwina's lips.
"I thought that thou didst intend staying longer," she said.
"Nay, child; 'tis high time we were going. Besides, if any there be at
the cottage, I should be there to give them greeting."
The smile on Egwina's face was reflected on Gunnehilde's, but the Danish
woman offered no remonstrance to their departure. The two were soon on
their way back.
"Thinkest thou that there will in truth be guests at the cottage?" asked
Egwina of the dame.
"Did not Gunnehilde say so?" returned Adiva; "and is she not a wicca? I
wot that it will be even as she hath said. Child, then thou canst not
help but believe in thy rede. Was it not wonderful what she told thee?"
"Yes; but--" Egwina looked a little troubled.
"But what, child?"
"I did not understand clearly just what she meant. She seemed to mislike
questions else I would have asked further."
"She told thee all she would without questions," returned the dame.
"Often do I consult her, and always hath it been as she hath said. But
Denewulf wots not of it."
"Tell me of her," said Egwina. "Hath she always been a wicca? There
seemed to me to be much of the noble about her, and she spake not as do
the ceorls."
"A vala was she in her own land," returned Adiva. "A vala, honored by
chiefs and revered by the nation, who foretold the future to heroes.
Even the king of her land hath led her to the high seat in the hall
where he wished to consult her. Now doth she read the runes and consult
her galdra for the vulgar. But of all that e'er I met, Gunnehilde reads
truest the wizard's lore."
Soon they drew near the cabin of Denewulf. When within a short distance
of the hut, the hum of voices floated out upon the air. The dame turned
a triumphant look upon the maiden.
"Did I not tell thee? True are the words of Gunnehilde. Now shall we
know who the stranger be. ''Ere set of sun,' she said, and that is not
far distant. And guests many! I wonder who they are? Come, let us
hasten!"
She quickened her steps, and the maiden must perforce do the same. In
haste, Adiva threw open the door, and paused at the sight which met her
gaze.
A half dozen Saxons were grouped about the deal table in easy attitudes.
Wilfred, the stranger, sate a little apart attentively observant of
them. Denewulf was busily serving the guests with mead. By the costly
fur-lined gonnas and the golden-hilted swords, Adiva knew them to be
nobles.
"By my troth!" cried one of the youths merrily as the dame and the
maiden entered, "I have not seen so fair a face in days. Mickle and sore
would it repent me should I leave it without a kiss. A mancus, fair
maiden, for such favor."
Egwina drew back from the doorway.
"Fear not, little one," spoke the deep voice of Wilfred. "Enter in
peace. Niddering is he who speaketh so to a maiden. Fill not the ears of
a child with such trifling," he added sternly to the youth.
"And who be ye, good sir, that tells me what to do? Wot ye not that I am
Ethelred of Mercia?"
"I care not who ye be," answered Wilfred calmly. "Thy words are unmeet
for a maiden's ear. Therefore thou shalt say no more of them."
"Shalt not?" The youth was on his feet instantly, and flashed his sword
from its scabbard. "Draw, man! I wish not to strike thee as thou
sittest."
"Foolish boy, sheathe thy sword!" The stranger surveyed him with a deep
intense look of power. "Thinkest thou that I would draw against thee?
Thou didst merit the reproof; profit by it."
There was so much of command in his manner as he spake that the youth
hesitated, not wishing to be thought deficient in courage by his
comrades and yet unable to proceed against this calm stranger.
"Abide by his words, Ethelred," cried one of the others. "Thou wert in
truth too bold in thy speech, and hast thou not partaken of their
hospitality? Out, man!"
Sullenly the one called Ethelred sheathed his sword, resumed his seat,
and soon the episode passed from the minds of the party. Egwina slipped
into a seat on the other side of Wilfred. The dame joined the swineherd
in the serving of mead, and preparing meat for the guests. Soon the hut
rang with their glee.
"How bear the people the rule of the Northmen?" asked Wilfred during a
lull in the mirth.
"Hardly," spake one who was a man about his own age. "Those who lived
near the coasts have crossed into Gaul or other countries for the
succour which they obtained not in their own land. Others seek by
submission to mitigate the ferocity of the pagans. Others still, seek to
retain part of their property by the sacrifice of a portion. Others
again, seek refuge and safety in the recesses of the forest. All groan
under the rule of the oppressors, and none there be to oppose them sith
the king is gone."
"None?" shouted the youth Ethelred, springing to his feet. "None, sayest
thou? None! Nay; here is one!"
"And here is another," and another Saxon flashed his sword in the air.
"And another!" "And another!" shouted each and every one of the party,
until all were on their feet.
"Let us seek the king, and form an army!" shouted Ethelred. "Then, with
him as leader, will the Northman make food for the raven. Drink hael to
the death of the Dane."
All drank. Another cried:
"Drink hael to the king!" "Drink hael to the king!" All drank but
Wilfred.
"Marry, man! Drinkest thou not to the king?" cried Ethelred in wrath.
"Drink to the king, else thou shalt answer to me."
But Wilfred touched not the mead.
"Drink," shouted all together as their swords flashed in the air. "Drink
or defend thyself."
Even Denewulf and Adiva looked inquiringly at the stranger who stood so
calmly in their midst, and still drank not to the king. Egwina crept
close to his side, fearful of his safety.
"Drink," cried the Saxons again, "drink," and they made a dash at him.
"Back! Would ye strike your king?"
[Illustration: _"BACK! WOULD YOU STRIKE YOUR KING?"_]