CHAPTER I--THE MEETING IN THE FOREST

Beautiful was the month of October in the year of our Lord 877. That part of merrie England called Wessex was covered, in this ancient time with a vast and extensive wood.

Only where the broad estuary of Southampton Water divided the tangled woodland, and along the river Itchen, was there any break in the forest. Formidable were the wastes of Andred's weald, and fortunate the traveler whose path lay not apart from the public roads.

Hundreds of wide-spreading, broad-headed oak trees covered the hills and valleys, and flung their gnarled branches over the rich grassy sward beneath. Intermingled with these, sometimes so closely as to hide the rays of the sun, were beeches, hollies, and copsewood of various descriptions.

The great trees were girt round about with mosses or wreaths of ivy that betokened their age, and their foliage was bright with the hues of autumn.

The leaves were falling, but through the openings thus made wider vistas of beauty were revealed. The rich burnished bronze of the oak mingled with the blazing orange of the beech. The gray branches of the graceful ash contrasted with the fir--stately daughter of autumn.

The sunshine streaming through the trees caught and intensified the vivid colorings. Red of many degrees, up to the gaudiest scarlet; every tint of yellow, from the wan gold of the primrose to the deep orange of the tiger lily; purple from lightest lilac to the darkest shade of the pansy, mingled and intermingled, until the whole forest seemed one mass of glowing, riotous color. Ever and anon the antlers of a deer might have been seen as he moved restlessly through the wold, and in the nearer glades the hares and conies came stealing forth to sport or to feed.

In the distance the mellow blasts of a horn could be heard, which grew nearer and more near until presently on the high road which wound through the wastes of forest land from Silchester to Winchester (or Winteceaster, as it was then called) appeared the forms of two people, an old man and a girl.

They moved slowly, the maiden accommodating her steps to those of her companion. Though not really old, for he was not much more than sixty, both the man's countenance and carriage indicated age. His complexion was fair and his cheeks ruddy; but his visage was deeply furrowed, and his long hair, which escaped from under his bonnet, was white as snow, as was also his large and forked beard. His dark blue woolen mantle was clasped on the shoulder by a broad ouche, or brooch; his leggins were also of blue woolen, cross-gartered by strips of leather. Blue, too, was the under tunic. His right arm encircled a harp.

The girl who accompanied him was somewhere about the age of fourteen. Her form was enveloped in a mantle of scarlet wool, to which was attached a hood of the same material. The face under the hood was wondrously lovely, and had already gained her the appellation of "The Fair."

"Grandfather, dearest," she cried as she beheld a log which lay under the overhanging branches of a large oak, "see! here is rest for thy weariness. I wot that thou art tired."

"Yes, child. The limbs of the old tire quickly, and alack! I am not so young as I was of yore. The way hath seemed long to-day, and we are yet far from Winchester. Prithee, wind the horn no longer, for I weary of its sound; and truly if there be any within hearing, they must know of our coming."

He sat down as he spake, resting his harp on his knee. The maiden let fall the horn that proclaimed their coming, according to the law of the forest, threw back her hood, unfastened the fibula that closed the mantle, and tossed the garment on the log beside the old man. Thus revealed, she stood forth in all her beauty.

Her long yellow hair, bound only by a golden band, was parted smoothly and hung in ringlets on her shoulders. Her complexion was dazzling in its fairness; her cheeks rosy; her eyes sparkling, and blue as periwinkles. She wore a tunic of blue woolen, falling to her ankles, and bordered by a band of needlework, for which the Anglo-Saxon women were famous. Over this was worn a short gonna of scarlet, the sleeves of which, reaching in long, loose folds to the wrists, were confined there by bracelets. The slenderness of her waist was disclosed by a girdle, and over her shoulders hung a chain, from which was suspended a pair of cymbals and the horn. A picturesque figure she made as she stood there, and one fair to look upon. The old man's eyes rested upon her fondly, and then he spake:

"Art thou not cold, Egwina? The Wyn (October) month hath bright sunshine, but his breezes carry also the chill that foretokens the coming of winter. Heaven forfend that thou shouldst become ill."

The girl laughed merrily.

"Be not irked, grandfather. The mantle was wearisome, and I did but cast it aside for a time. See! Lest thou shouldst needlessly fret thy mind, I will put on the garment again, and thou shalt tell me whither we go after Winchester."

Donning the mantle she sat down beside him. The grandfather looked at her tenderly.

"Egwina The Fair art thou called," said he, "but Egwina The Good art thou also. From Winchester, dear child, and its market, we will wend our way to the royal vill at Chippenham, where the king is to winter."

"Why to Chippenham?" asked the girl. "It is not often, grandfather, that thou carest to follow the king."

"True, child; for Alfred hath scops of his own in his court, and needeth not the glee of Wulfhere, the harper. But even as yon oak hath gathered the moss of years, so have sorrows come to me, and fain am I to lay down their burthen. Of bards there are many; but few glee maidens there be who sing as thou dost. For thy sake do I hope that the king will take us under his hand."

"But if he will not, then whither?" asked the maiden.

"He will," answered Wulfhere positively. "The meanest wayfarer hath the right to bed and board for a day and a night in any house. Thinkest, then, that Alfred will not give shelter and food to a gleeman and maiden? I trow that he will."

"Will not the court be hindrance to thee?" questioned the girl gently. "Dear grandfather, thou hast been so free always, I fear me much that thou wilt mislike to be housed with one lord."

"Were he younger, child, Wulfhere would have nought of it. I, and my father, and his father's father have always thus lived, wandering from shire to shire; from burgh to burgh; from mead hall to mead hall, with harp and song and story; and none were so welcome as they. Many lords have bestowed gifts upon them, and fain would have kept them to sing of their bold deeds. But all of us, from father to son, liked better to tell of the daring of many than the prowess of one. The song of a harp of one string becometh in time irksome both to hearer and singer. In sooth, 'tis a merry life and a free. Alack and a day that 'tis past! The Dane is abroad in the land. For a short time hath he left us in quiet, and now winter will still further stay his hand. Guthrum the old is bold, and I fear that the Northmen await only the bringing home of the summer ere falling upon Wessex."

"The saints forfend!" ejaculated the girl devoutly.

"So it is for thy weal, Egwina, that we seek the king. I would not have thee die as did thy brother, Siegbert. God wots how they could kill the pretty lad."

"Tell me of it," coaxed the maiden well knowing the tale, but thus did the old man ease his sorrow.

"Thou wert too young to mind thee now that it was seven years this harvest when Ubbo and Oskitul with the tearful Danes fell upon the abbey of Croyland. To the monks had I sent Siegbert, for the abbot had heard his singing and was pleased with his beauty. 'He shall be a second Cynewulf,' said he, 'when he shall have become learned.' I wotted not that I was sending the boy to his death. But even while the abbot and the priests, together with the choir, performed the mass and were singing the Psalter, the pagans swooped down upon them, and none were there left to tell the tale. So little do these heathen care for our holy religion. In sooth, meseems that it glads their hearts to destroy our minsters and abbeys. They cared neither for the helplessness of the old nor the harmlessness of childhood. Bright and beautiful as that Baldur whom they worship, methinks they would have spared him. But hearken! was not that a call?"

Both listened intently, and through the clear, crisp air there came a cry for help.

"Some mishap hath befallen a wayfarer!" exclaimed Wulfhere rising quickly to his feet, his weariness vanishing instantly. "Come, Egwina, wind thy horn that he may know that help is near."

The maiden blew a long, loud blast and then they hastened in the direction whence the cry had come. Soon a turn of the road brought them in sight of the figures of a youth and a maiden. The girl was lying prone upon the sward. The youth bent over her anxiously stroking her hands. Both were clothed in the bright-colored garments of which the Saxons were so fond. The embroidery and richness of adornment of their dress proclaimed them to be of noble rank. A falcon hovered disconsolately near them, and a spear lay on the ground.

As soon as the lad caught sight of Wulfhere and Egwina, he uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Be of good heart, Ethelfleda," he cried; "here comes a gleeman and his daughter. I wot that they will help us."

"Son, wherefore thy call?" queried the bard, approaching.

"My sister hath wrenched her foot against a stone," replied the youth. "We stole away to try my new falcon with the lure, and all would have been well had not this befallen us. Wilt thou not, good harper, hasten into Winchester and bespeak for us a palfrey?"

"Edward," spoke the maiden quickly, "seest thou not that the gleeman is old? Do thou go, my brother, and leave me with them."

"Truly hast thou spoken, Ethelfleda," returned the youth, rising. "I crave forgiveness, bard, that I saw not thy years. Quickly will I go and as quickly come again. Irk not thyself while I am gone, my sister." With a bow to Wulfhere and Egwina, and a salute for his sister the youth hurried away.

"I hear the ripling of a rill," remarked Egwina. "Cooling will its waters feel to thy foot."

"But how canst thou bring the water?" asked the maiden, curiously. "Thou hast no bowl either of horn or wood."

"Nay; but I have these," and Egwina touched her cymbals. "Though they be shallow, yet enough will they hold for thy ankle."

She unloosened the shoe of the maiden as she spoke and removed the silken leggins, marveling much at their richness as she did so.

"There!" she said, after she had laved the foot in the cold water. "Doth it not feel better!"

"It doth," answered the maiden; "so well that methinks I can stand upon it. How Edward will wonder!"

"Do not so!" ejaculated Wulfhere, but the girl was up before he had spoken. Only for a moment, however. She reeled, and would have fallen had not the gleeman caught her.

"Thou wert o'er rash," he chided, gently stroking her brow while Egwina fetched more water and again bathed the ankle. The maiden was white from the pain, but she bravely repressed the moans that rose to her lips.

"Witless was I," she murmured. "Now will I lie still until help comes. O'er rashness is as bad, I ween, as not enough boldness."

"True," said Wulfhere. "Thou art young, maiden, and fearless is thy spirit. Thou hast yet to learn that valor is not all in the doing of brave deeds. To bear well is also valorous."

"Methinks that thou dost speak truly," she returned. "Thou needst bathe the foot no longer, maiden, for now doth it feel better. Wilt thou not, ministrel, out of thy good pleasure beguile the time by story?"

"What likest thou best to hear?" asked he, well pleased, for the scop delighted in his art.

"Of the deeds of our forefathers," she replied, quickly. "Well do I love to hear of them."

"Then will I tell thee of how Hengist gained the land for his castle. Hast heard it?"

"Nay; say on."

"After Hengist had driven the Picts back to the marches," began Wulfhere, "he came to Vortigern the king, and asked for a city or town that he might be held in the same honor that he was held among his own countrymen; but Vortigern answered that he could not, as it would be displeasing to his people. 'Then,' said Hengist, 'give me only so much ground as I can encircle by a leather thong.' To this Vortigern readily yielded, disdaining that which could be enclosed within a thong. Hengist, taking a bull's hide, made one thong of the whole, with which he did encircle much ground, so that he built a fortress upon it, to which he could go should need require. Vortigern was wroth at being so outwitted, but Hengist called the strong place Thancastre," which is to say "Thong Castle."

Ethelfleda laughed.

"Of merry humor was Hengist," she said. "It is pleasing to hear such things! Wittest thou aught else of him?"

"Wottest thou, maiden, how Vortigern was taken captive by Rowena?"

"Yea; but even as wine groweth better by standing, so do old tales gather wit in oft telling. Say on."

"When Hengist had made an end of building his strong place he bade Vortigern come to see it. The king was disquieted at the strength of the castle, and, unknown to Hengist, sought to list the men to himself. When they had feasted and the mead glowed in the bowl, Rowena, daughter of Hengist, came forth from her bower bearing a golden cup full of wine which, kneeling, she presented to the king. 'Lord king,' she cried, 'wacht heil!' 'What doth she mean?' asked the king of Hengist. 'She but offers to drink thy health,' was the answer. 'Thou shouldst say, 'Drink heil!'' The king did as he was told, and when the maiden drank kissed her, and then drank also. Then so stirred was he by her beauty that he gave to Hengist all of Kent for her hand. Thus through a maiden did the Saxons first get a share of Britain for their own."

"Quotha! that is good!" exclaimed Ethelfleda. "I thought not of that before, and full oft have I heard the tale. Pleasing are thy stories! I would hear more of them. Tell on, harper."

Thus entreated, Wulfhere told his choicest tales of folklore and legends, and so well was the maiden entertained that the time did not seem long until Edward returned with attendants and a palfrey for her use.

"Kind have ye been to me," said the noble damsel, "and much do I thank ye for it. Prithee take this ring, maiden. It is not only a ward against the wiles of the wicca (witch), but betokeneth purity also. Take it to keep thee in mind of Ethelfleda."

When she had thus spoken, her brother lifted her before him on the palfrey, and with many thanks for their courtesy, rode off with their servitors.

"Sawest thou, granther, how rich were their garments?" asked Egwina when the turn in the road hid them from their sight.

"Yea; they are gentlefolk," answered Wulfhere. "Of good blood comes the maiden for she moaned not but bore well the pain of the wrench, though she was white from the hurt of it."

"And the youth! How proud in bearing he was!"

"Yea; noble was his port. Yet methinks it would have been more seemly to have given us the name of their father. Now we wot not who or what they be save that they be gentle. Marry! I misdoubt not that the father is a thegn. Mayhap, one of the king's."

"But how kind of heart the maiden was!" mused Egwina. "How beautiful the ring which she gave me!" She looked at it admiringly.

"It is a sapphire, and of great worth," said the gleeman examining it. "Now, child, let us hasten to Winchester there to find some mead hall; for where there is wassail, there is welcome for the gleeman. Hasten, Egwina."

The two started off at a brisk walk, and were soon lost to view in the forest.