By the treaty of peace between Alfred and Athelstan drawn up by the
witanagemot or the Saxon parliament which convened at Wedmore after the
baptism of the Danes, the boundaries of the two kingdoms were defined. A
line beginning at the mouth of the Thames, and running along the river
Lea to its source, and turning at Bedford to the right along the Ouse as
far as Watling street was to make the division. The part which was north
of the line being the Danish kingdom and called Danelagh, while all
south of the line was the kingdom of the Saxons. According to this
arrangement a large portion of Mercia fell to Alfred's share.
The treaty comprehended various rules for the conduct of commerce, and
courts were instituted for the trial of disputes and crimes; although in
their own kingdom the Danes were to be governed by their own laws.
Athelstan was to remain king of the Danes but to Alfred tribute was to
be paid as over lord. As soon as peace had been concluded, Alfred turned
his attention to the internal affairs of his kingdom. The lessons of the
invasion had not been lost, and he proceeded at once to put the country
into a complete state of defence. Old fortifications were repaired and
new ones raised in suitable localities. Flocks and herds again grazed in
the pastures, herds of swine roamed in the woods, fields were
cultivated, houses rebuilt, and the country entered upon an era of
unprecedented prosperity.
The fleet was brought into a state of great efficiency, and it was
Alfred who at this time laid the foundation for England's future
supremacy on the seas. The land had been infested by robbers, but the
king cleared the land of these by stringent laws which forced them
either to leave the country or become peaceful and law-abiding citizens.
The laws were not neglected, and the indefatigable king revised the
code, striking out those which availed not for the time, and adding
others; the whole approved by his witan. He exerted the utmost care that
justice should be administered to all impartially. He encouraged
commerce, and took a lively interest in geographical discovery.
The king's heart had been grieved at the depth of the popular ignorance,
and to the mitigation of this dark feature of his country did he also
direct his attention. It had been his testimony that south of the Thames
not even the priests understood the ritual of the church, or the meaning
of the prayers which they repeated. It was one of his strongest and most
cherished desires that every free-born youth should qualify himself to
read English correctly.
In order to accomplish this, he rebuilt the monasteries which had been
cast down in the late wars, and which were the great centres of
education in those days, and established schools. For the furtherance of
the same object, he invited to his court learned men from all quarters,
and with their assistance, completed a number of works for the diffusion
of knowledge throughout the kingdom.
Among these men from Gaul were Grimbald and John. Grimbald was a
venerable man and a good singer; adorned with every kind of
ecclesiastical discipline and good morals, and most learned in holy
Scriptures. John, priest and monk also, was of most energetic talents,
learned in all kinds of literary science, and skilled in many other
arts. Asser of Wales also came. From Mercia did he call Werefrith bishop
of Worcester, a man well versed in Scripture; and Plegmund, archbishop
of the church of Canterbury. Ethelstan and Werewulf, priests and
chaplains, Mercians by birth and erudite.
Through these men was the mind of the king enlarged, and great work
accomplished among the youth. Elswitha, Ethelgiva, and Ethelwerd, the
younger children, were consigned to the schools of learning where with
the children of almost all the nobility of the country, and many also
who were not noble, they pursued their studies. Books both in Latin and
in Saxon were they taught. They learned to write, and became studious
and clever in the liberal arts.
Ethelfleda, Edward, and Egwina were not suffered to pass their time in
idleness or without gain. Well had Egwina profited by the lessons taught
her in the cottage of Denewulf, and her apt and ready mind soon placed
her beside Edward and Ethelfleda, who had already received much
instruction. When not engaged in study, the maidens spent much time with
the needle or distaff; while Edward hunted or trained hawks. Thus did
the days pass until two years had gone by.
Fair had Egwina been in her childhood, but the maiden of sixteen was
wondrously beautiful. In sweet unconsciousness of her charm she
performed her tasks with light heart for pleasant were the days to her.
But one shadow darkened the horizon.
Ethelred had conducted himself with so much prowess, and shown himself
endowed with so much of executive ability that Alfred had made him
ealdorman of Mercia. Also had the king consented to the marriage of
Ethelfleda to him, and for this event preparations were now being made.
For this cause was Egwina sad. She rejoiced in the happiness of the two,
yet did it grieve her sore to lose the companionship of her friend.
"It shall not be for long, Egwina," comforted Ethelfleda. "When I am
Lady of the Mercians thou shalt come, and be my companion as thou hast
been."
So, amongst innumerable multitudes of both sexes, the marriage was
celebrated with great rejoicing. As was the custom, the feasting
continued both by day and by night for many days. Wearied by so much
mirth and festivity, and overcome by a feeling of sadness which she
could not control, Egwina stole away from the guests, and glided out
beneath the trees to a knoll. The moon shone in all her splendor. The
long, deep shadows of the breathless forest which lay beyond, checkered
the silvery whiteness of open sward and intervening glade. Pensively the
maiden gazed at the moon, and then she sighed involuntarily.
"Why sighest thou, daughter of Wulfhere?" asked a voice near.
Egwina turned with a start. Before her on the knoll stood Gyda, the seid
woman.
"Is it thou, Gyda? Long hath it been since last I saw thee. Then the
land was torn with tumult and warfare; now doth it prosper, and peace
abideth everywhere."
"True, maiden; happy have been the days. Pleasant have been my days.
Pleasant, most pleasant, have been thine. Then wherefore dost thou sigh?
Is it because thou art alone?"
"Nay, Gyda," said the maiden gently. "'Tis only that I mourn the loss of
my friend. Otherwise I would not have it to be, for Ethelfleda is happy.
She believes that naught can change us; but thou wottest, Gyda, that now
new duties will claim her attention, and it cannot be with us as it hath
been. Unworthy is it in me to grieve, but yet, methinks I shall be the
better for it."
"Egwina," said Gyda abruptly, "art thou happy here? Dost thou not often
grieve for the old life and the free? Think of thy father, and of thy
grandfather. Ay! and I have heard his father, and his father's father
were gleemen; yet thou stayest here, and there is peace in the land.
Much gold and many gifts couldst thou bring to thyself by thy harp and
song. Art content to be at the call of one lord even though that lord is
the king?"
"I do not grieve for the old life, Gyda," said the maiden, simply.
"Pleasant was it with granther. Yet methinks I am happier here than I
should be wandering from lord to lord; from mead hall to mead hall. And
the king and his family love me."
"And thou wouldst not leave them?" queried the wicca.
"Nay; why should I? Useful am I to Elswitha, and now that she no longer
will have Ethelfleda, I shall be more so. No, Gyda; I would not leave
them. 'Twould grieve me much."
"Sorry am I to hear it," and Gyda's tone was low. "Child, little didst
thou reck that thou didst make me long to have thee with me when last I
saw thee. The runes speak not well for Gyda. They grow dim when she
would read what Skulda hath in store for her. Calamity overshadows me,
and a curious longing hath fallen upon my heart to have thee, who art
pure and innocent, with me. Methinks I should be the better for it.
Canst thou not, child, give me thyself for a time only? Alfred hath
much. Why should he begrudge me thee who have none sibbe to me? Wilt
thou come to dwell with me? Much of gold have I, maiden, and many gems
of rare value which have been showered upon me. These, all these shall
be thine."
"Gyda, I know not," answered Egwina much distressed and full of pity for
the woman's loneliness. "I will talk with the king and the lady
Elswitha, and let thee know anon. But if I go with thee, Gyda, 'tis not
for gifts or gold, but for thy loneliness. I will see thee again."
"Thinkest thou that Alfred will let thee go from him?" cried Gyda. "I
trow not! I trow not! Thou art born for greatness, and it is much to ask
of thee."
She drew her mantle over her head, and turned to go.
"Natheless, Gyda, wait for a little and I will speak with him," urged
Egwina, laying her hand upon the woman's shoulder.
"Wait I will, maiden. Till the dawn I will wait. Again will I read the
runes, and see if thou wilt come. Dark and clouded have they been of
late, and seid and galdra have availed me naught; but once more will I
try. Fount, and tree and scin-laeca, shall all be consulted."
She glided away, and was lost in the darkness.
"Strange, strange woman," said the girl musingly, with a shudder. "I
pity her, and yet my heart revolts from dwelling with her; but still
will I ask the king."
"Egwina, art thou here?" Edward came to her side at this moment. "Vainly
have I sought thee through hull and bower, and only caught sight of thee
but now. Why didst thou leave the mirth?"
"I was awearied, Edward, but now will I return with thee."
"Soon will we re-enter, Egwina. Ethelfleda wishes thee to sing the same
song which she heard thee sing when first thou didst sing for her."
"That will I do gladly," and Egwina turned. "'Tis but a short time that
Ethelfleda remaineth with us, and gladly will I do aught that she
asketh."
"Nay; go not yet, Egwina. How fine the night is! Dost thou remember how
chill and drear was the awful night that the Northmen fell upon us at
Chippenham? How fair thou didst look that night when, child though thou
wert, thou didst stand up in the hall and sing. Fair thou wert, Egwina,
but not so fair as now. Thou mindest me of a fawn with thy shyness and
grace. Tell me, hast thou kept the charm I gave thee?"
"Yes, Edward." Egwina drew the chain from under the folds of her tunic.
"See! The amulet is as thou didst fasten it."
The Saxon clasped the amulet with the hand that held it in his own.
"Egwina, this night wilt thou exchange with me the true-lofa?"
"Edward, what meanest thou?" The maiden looked up at him in startled
amazement.
"Thou art duller than thy wont, Egwina, if thou knowest not," smiled
Edward. "I mean our betrothal. Always have I intended to wed thee, if
thou wert willing, when proper time should come. What then so fitting as
that we plight our troth now when all rejoice in the happiness of
Ethelred and Ethelfleda?"
"But, Edward," faltered Egwina, "thou art the atheling, and I but a
gleemaiden. Thou wilt be the cyning (king) one day, and then thou wilt
know that such as I am not fit to be the Lady of the Saxons."
"No other will I choose, if thou be not my mate," returned Edward.
"But thy father, Edward; and thou art yet too young." Egwina was
troubled.
"I will go to my father now, Egwina. If he says that we are too young,
then will I wait his pleasure. He will sanction our troth and bless it.
And why should he not? He loves thee now as a daughter. Wilt thou not
give me thy true-lofa, Egwina?"
"Wait until thou hast seen thy father," whispered the maiden. "I fear
his displeasure."
"Thou foolish little one! Hath he not been kind to thee?"
"Always and always," declared she with fervor. "But I am not noble.
Naught of gentle blood have I either on the spear side or the spindle
side. I fear, Edward, that the king will be displeased with me."
"Marry, I trow not! Stay thou here, and I will seek him, and soon shall
thy fears be quieted. Remain here, Egwina, for I will soon return."
He hastened back into the house with eager footsteps, and the agitated
girl sank down upon the sward. Soon she heard voices, and wishing not to
meet any one for a while, she withdrew into the shadows of the trees. It
was Alfred himself and his wife, Elswitha.
"Dear lord," the lady was saying, "hast noted how fair the maiden Egwina
groweth?"
"Yea; but not before these last few days. I fear, Elswitha, that soon
she, too, will leave us for some other's abode."
"My lord, Edward looks upon the maiden with loving eyes."
"Sayest thou so?" cried Alfred. "Why, the boy is but young! Art thou not
mistaken?"
"Nay, a mother's heart doth not deceive her, Alfred. Thou wert but
eighteen thyself when we were wed. Thy son is almost the same age now as
thou wert then."
"Sayest thou so?" Alfred seemed to be startled. "Why, 'tis but the other
day that he received sword and buckler!"
"Swiftly doth the time fly," returned Elswitha. "I know that which I
tell thee is true, and it hath grieved me, Alfred, for Egwina is not
noble."
"True," assented the king; "she comes not of noble blood."
Egwina covered her face with her hands. Was it not as she had thought it
would be? Now these dear people, who had done so much for her, who had
been so kind, would be displeased.
Alfred and the lady passed on. Egwina sobbed aloud in her loneliness.
"Maiden," came a low whisper.
Egwina looked up to see the form of Gyda again beside her.
"I have heard all. All that the youth said to thee, and what the king
and his wife said also. Seest thou not that they wish thee not? Come!
Gyda will cherish thee as her own."
Egwina looked at her hopelessly.
"What shall I do, Gyda?" she cried. "I could not bear that they should
be cold to me."
"Thou needst not bear it, child. Come with me. I promise thee that thou
shalt not regret it. Come! Edward must not find thee here when he
returns. Come!"
She held out her hand. Scarcely knowing what she was doing, Egwina put
her own within it, and the two glided noiselessly into the woods.