Joyfully did Alfred greet them on their arrival at Athelney.
"Well hast thou done, little one," he said to Egwina. "Never will Alfred
forget how leal thou hast been to him."
"But the jewel, my king? I grieve that I have lost it."
"'Tis nought," reassured the king. "A trifle like that can be replaced.
And thou wouldst not, for thy life's sake, give it of thine own free
will. Loyalty and honor hast thou shown--two of the brightest virtues in
friendship's crown."
Glowing with pleasure, Egwina hastened to greet Denewulf and Adiva, who
were overjoyed at her return. A cottage had been built on Athelney for
Alfred, and to this he now repaired with his family. Ethelfleda would
not be separated from Egwina, so the gleemaiden also went with them,
much to the sorrow of the swineherd and his wife, who made her promise
to return to them for a part of each day.
The island had been well intrenched and numbers had flocked to it. So
many were there that the scant resources of the place were soon
exhausted, and so dire was the necessity of the king that he was forced
to forage for provisions.
Now, too, did he begin a series of skirmishes; attacking the enemy
without ceasing, wherever he found any parties or camps accessible to
his attempts. Whether his object was achieved, or did he meet with
repulsion, he retired with a celerity that baffled pursuit to his
unknown asylum. The Northmen became terror-stricken at the ravages which
this secret foe was making upon them, and finally came to believe, with
the superstition of the age, that the attacks were of a supernatural
character.
Gradually the king extended his assaults, harassing the Danes with
hostility in a distant quarter as well as those near. By day and by
night, at dawn, in the evening twilight, from woods and marshes, he was
ever rushing on the Northmen with all the advantages of selection and
surprise. But still the provisions grew less, and the king was sore put
for supplies.
One day, while it was yet so cold that it was frozen, the king's people
had gone out to get provender, fish or fowl or whatsoever they should
happen upon, while Alfred himself remained in the cottage. The king was
discouraged. Despite the successful issue of his forays against the
Norsemen, they still remained in such numbers that it seemed an
impossible task to ever rid the land of them. At last he took from his
bosom the little manual which he always carried with him, and began
reading one of the Psalms of David for comfort.
A knock at the door brought Ethelfleda and Egwina from an adjoining
room.
"Open, my daughter," said the king.
"But it may not be one of thy followers," said the girl, dubiously.
"Open; keep not one without who may need shelter from the wind. Piercing
is the blast. Open unto him whomever it may be."
Ethelfleda opened the door not widely, as was the wont of the Saxons,
for she feared that one might be without who sought the king.
"Bread, maiden! Give me bread to eat for Christ His sake," pleaded a man
who stood there. He was poorly clad and he shivered in the chill breath
of the March wind.
"Enter, in His name," cried the king, heartily. "Enter and warm thyself
by the fire."
Murmuring blessings, the man crept close to the fire and huddled over
the blaze.
"Food for him," commanded the king to Ethelfleda.
"But, my king," remonstrated Egwina, speaking in a low tone, "there is
but one small loaf of bread which is all the food that there is left.
Wilt thou that it be set before the man, and thereby leave thee naught
to strengthen thee for the sally to-night?"
"Give it anyway, little one," bade the king. "We have eaten to-day; it
may be that he hath not. The poor man looks as if he needed it."
Thereupon he returned to his reading, while the maidens served the
beggar. Hungrily did he eat. Soon the last morsel of bread disappeared
before the voracious appetite. Then he arose, gathered the folds of his
mantle more closely around him, and turned to the girls.
"Ye have heard the words of the master," he said. "'Inasmuch as ye have
done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.'
I thank ye, maidens, for your kindness. Most of all do I thank him who
hath ministered to me from his own necessity."
He turned to the king as he spake, but Alfred had fallen asleep over his
book. An expression almost of adoration passed over the beggar's face.
Over the sleeping form then did he make the sign of the cross while the
girls watched him in something like awe.
"Whoe'er thou art," he murmured, "Christ is with thee. For that mercy
which thou hast meted to another from thy dire want, may it be returned
fourfold. Art thou brought low from high estate? Be comforted. Low
though the heavy clouds hang, above the sun is shining. Forsaken it may
be that thou art now, but to thy call shall rally hundreds."
He bent before the sleeping form of Alfred, and pressed his lips to the
king's hand. Then drawing his bonnet over his head went slowly from
them.
"Almost," said Ethelfleda to Egwina, "could I believe that some saint
hath visited us. Glad am I that my father bade me give him the food."
"He is some holy man," returned Egwina in a low tone. "But how he spake
of the king? And how he loves him!" She touched the king's hand
reverently. "How they all love him, Ethelfleda!"
"And worthy is he of their love," returned the daughter, gently kissing
his forehead. "My noble father! I care not, Egwina, that he be king; but
that he is wise, and tender, and so good. When he speaks, his words are
unlying always, and men know that his word requires no oath to bind him.
My heart bounds with pride when they call him 'The Truth Teller.' There
have been many kings before him, but none so great as my father."
"I wonder not at thy love," said the gleemaiden. "Well doth he merit it.
And Ethelfleda, as thou dost feel, so do all his people. Pride in his
wisdom, and love for his tenderness, even to the beggar that hath left
us. It hath given me new hope, for it is said that a poor man's wish is
better than the gift of a rich man."
"Into my heart, too, hath crept new hope," said Ethelfleda. "Methinks
that soon the days will really become brighter."
At this moment Alfred awoke, and started to his feet.
"Methought that a poor man but now asked for food," he said.
"One hath been here," answered Ethelfleda. "We fed him, and he is gone.
Dost thou not remember, dear father, that there was not food enou' left
for all but thou didst bid us bring it to him? He hath partaken of it,
blessed thee, and gone."
"He blessed me?" The king's eyes grew dim. "'Tis strange! And then my
dream!"
"Didst thou dream, my lord and son?" said Eadburga, entering the room.
"I, too, have just dreamed. Speak, and let us hear thine, son."
"I dreamed," said Alfred, "that St. Cuthbert of Lindisfarne stood beside
me. He spake and told me he had been my guest. He said that God had seen
my affliction and those of my people which were now about to end. In
token whereof Edward will return with the Saxons with a great take of
fish."
"Sayest thou so?" cried Eadburga, much agitated. "Why that is mine own
dream. Was any one here at all?"
"There was a beggar," declared the girls in the same breath. "He blessed
the king when he left, and made the sign of the cross over him."
"That was the reason that I did dream that it was St. Cuthbert," said
Alfred, who nevertheless was much impressed by the dream.
"Thy difficulties are fast nearing an end," said the aged lady
impressively. "I think, son, that this has been sent thee for comfort to
thy heart, and cheer to thy drooping spirits."
"And comfort hath it brought," said the king heartily.
"I would that Edward would come with the others," cried Ethelfleda. "I
would like to see if he bringeth a great take of fish."
"Look not always for a sign, daughter," reproved Alfred. "Well hath the
vision served, if it but raise our courage. 'Twas induced by the
blessing of the poor man. I would that he had remained with us, for it
is chill and raw without. I wot that he was some holy man. Whatever he
be, little doth he reck how he hath blessed us in return for the poor
food which we gave."
"But still do I wish for Edward's return," declared Ethelfleda in a low
tone to Egwina. "Supper will there not be unless the fish be taken. I am
hungry. Art thou not, Egwina?"
"Not since I have seen that poor man eat," replied the maiden. "He ate
as if naught had passed his lips for days."
Just then came the tramp of many feet from without.
"Open, father," cried the voice of Edward. "Open and see what I have
brought thee."
Ethelfleda flew to the door before Alfred could move, and threw it open.
"Welcome, welcome, Edward! What dost thou bring? Oh, father, see the
fish!"
"Enough to feed an army," and he laughed as the Saxons tried to bring
them in, for it was truly a great take. "Blessed be St. Wilfrid, who
taught the Saxons to fish! He must have been with us to-day."
"No, son; a greater than Wilfrid was with thee," said Alfred solemnly, a
joyous light shining in his eyes. "Wonderful hath been thy catch, and
wonderful, too, hath been our experience."
"Let us have a feast," cried the practical Ethelfleda; "hungry must ye
be, good people, and hungry am I also. Art thou not now, Egwina?"
"Since there is so much," answered she, "I wot that I am."
"And dost thou not feel hunger save when there is plenty?" laughed
Ethelfleda. "Strange, Egwina! Would that my appetite would accommodate
itself to the supply. But marry! the less there is, the more do I wish."
"'Tis the heart of Egwina that molds her appetite," commented Edward.
"At the morning meal I could but notice how she broke off the larger
part of her bread, and gave it to Ethelwerd and Elswitha. The meat did
go in the same manner."
"Didst thou?" Ethelfleda looked up from the fish she was preparing in
amaze. "Thou shouldst have eaten thy portion. Each had the same."
"True; but the little ones wished for more," said the girl simply. "And
I need not much. Then, too, Edward gave me part of his."
"'Twas naught," said the youth hastily. "Thou wouldst retain nothing for
thyself if thou were not watched. Besides, I am a man, and stronger than
thou."
"A man?" teased his sister. "A man, yet thou hast not yet naught but
down upon thy chin; nor art thou of age to wear buckler."
"Yet in truth a man," said Alfred, laying his hand kindly upon his son's
head. "A man such as I wish to see, my son. Tender to the weak, and
gentle to the helpless."
Edward's face flushed at the praise.
"Come, Ethelred," he called, to hide his confusion, to the young man who
stood by the fire. "Come help us to prepare the fish."
"Gladly," returned Ethelred. "I have been warming by the fire, for chill
hath the wind proved, else I had been with ye ere now. Marry! glad will
I be when the Lenat (March) month hath passed."
Thus busily and merrily, despite hardships and dangers, did they prepare
the fish, and with hearts knit more closely together for these same
hardships, the king and his retainers sat down to supper. As merry and
gleeful were they as when in other days they had gathered round the
festive board in royal hall with wassail and song, so now sat the Saxon
king and his people in the rude cabin.
After the meal, Egwina sang, for to-night hope had entered into their
hearts, and their hunger was satisfied as it had not been for days.
Early the next morning, the king crossed to the mainland. But twice
wound he his horn, when from the alders and forest there came many men.
"The king! The king!" they cried. "We rally to his standard!"
"Here is the king," came the reply, and thus five hundred more men were
added to Alfred's number.