CHAPTER XV--THE BEGGAR OF ATHELNEY

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.