CHAPTER XVI--IN THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY

Easter had passed, and the first faint breath of spring was in the air. Rapidly the numbers in Athelney increased. The whole people had by this time been apprised of the king's plan, and were making preparations to join him in the final blow. Guthrum with his Danes grew aware of the unusual stir and activity among them, but found it impossible to discover its cause.

Still Alfred knew not the strength of the enemy. Guthrum had removed from Chippenham, and was now encamped at Westbury. Into the king's mind there came a bold idea. Calling Egwina to him, he said with his winning smile, "Little one, darest thou to accompany me on a journey?"

"Gladly, my king," was the response.

"I will not hide from thee, Egwina, that it may be fraught with peril both to thee and to myself. But it will advantage me to take it, though little do I reck of the outcome. Thou needst not go unless thou wilt. I will not think the less of thee if thou dost not choose to go."

"It matters not, my king, whither, or into what it doth lead. If thou dost desire me with thee, then will I go."

"Thou leal little one! I knew that I could trust to thy courage. Listen to my plan, Egwina, and then shalt thou say if thou wilt. Thou and I will go as minstrels into the camp of Guthrum, and I shall see for myself his forces and supplies. Now, what sayest thou?"

But before she could answer, Ethelfleda, who had joined them, broke in with, "My father, take me with thee. Did I not sing to thy harp? I am thy daughter, and it is more fitting that I should share thy danger than Egwina."

"Thou art too proud in thy port for a gleemaiden," returned the king. "Far too proud for my purpose. Thou couldst not be one in seeming. Egwina hath always been one, and so will give more of the appearance of truth to the affair? Thou seest, my daughter, that it were better for Egwina to go?"

"I see," answered Ethelfleda slowly. "But, oh, my father! Mickle sorrow doth it give me that I have done naught for thee in thine affliction!"

"Thou hast done much," and the king soothed her tenderly. "Much! Thou hast cheered and comforted me by thy presence and brightness, and that is much, for I wot how thou hast chafed at the inactivity, my lion-hearted daughter. This also do I promise thee: the beacon that bringth all the Saxons together thou shalt light with thine own hands."

"Oh, may I?" cried Ethelfleda, delightedly. "Then, Egwina, no longer do I grudge thee thy place, but wish all good to befortune thee."

"Wilt thou go, Egwina, now that thou knowest what thou will have to encounter? If it should so be that there are any in the camp of the Dane who know me, then I wot not what will become of thee."

"Think not of me," returned the girl earnestly. "Is not the gleemaiden wont to endure trials? Think not on me, but reflect on thyself. How shalt thou act, my king?"

"As a gleeman. With harp and song shall we delight them; then with tricks of mimicry, and knives and balls, will I excite their mirth."

"But thou hast also a proud bearing," and the girl looked anxious.

"Not more so than thy grandsire," said Elswitha with a smile. "He did deport himself full of pride."

"And the gifts," went on the maiden. "Canst thou receive them humbly and gratefully from the gift stool?"

"Never fear, little one. Alfred hath been forced to pillage for food itself lately, and his pride hath been brought very low."

So the king disguised himself as a minstrel, and with Egwina, the gleemaiden, set forth for the camp of the Dane. After they had emerged from the forest, they began singing and playing as they wended their way through the villages. The people flocked after them, and many were the invitations extended to tarry at some hall, but the supposed minstrel and his daughter refused them, and kept steadily on their way to the Danish camp.

It was a well fortified place, and, as they approached, the keen eyes of the king noted how impregnable its walls were.

"Should we ever succeed in freeing the land from the invaders," he said thoughtfully, "the lesson will not have been in vain. Behold those walls, Egwina! How staunch and firm they be! If God so pleases to bestow peace upon us for a time, fortresses shall be reared, ships made, and the coasts defended; so that never again shall Norseman or foe of any kind ravage the country."

They came to the gates, and there paused, singing their sweetest melodies. The warders listened and opened to them. Minstrels were held in such esteem that Saxon and Dane alike looked upon them as non-combatants, and admitted them freely to the halls of either side. So it happened that the king and the maiden were soon amusing the warriors within the camp.

They roared with merriment at the tricks of the minstrel, and listened entranced to the singing of Egwina.

"To Guthrum! To Guthrum they must go!" cried one of the crowd which surrounded them. "'Twill warm the heart of the king to hear them!"

So to the abode of Guthrum were they taken. The king sat on his high seat at meat when the warden spake to him:

"A Saxon minstrel is without, good king. The strings he touches with a master's hand; and as he plays the maiden with him sings to his harp tales of heroes and brave deeds. Fair is she, and rarely well doth she sing. In sooth, the tricks the gleeman gives are good also."

"Then let them enter," said the king. "Heavy lieth the heart of Guthrum in his breast for darkness hath settled over him, and he feareth evil to come."

"Enter, minstrel. My lord's heart is heavy, ease it with thy art," and the warder conducted them into the hall where Guthrum sat with his jarls.

"Strike thy harp, skald," said Guthrum, "and choose some lay that will lighten the shadow which the death goddess, Hela, hath thrown over my soul. For to-night, Guthrum sitteth in darkness."

Alfred gazed in compassion on the noble countenance and broad forehead of the Dane before him. A wish to ease the burthen which evidently oppressed him by infusing into his soul some of that comfort which never failed, filled him. Striking his harp with a strong twang of the strings after the fashion of harpers, he exclaimed loudly, "Hwaet!" (what). The clamour of the surrounding voices was hushed instantly and he began to sing.

"Tis a Christian hymn, skald. Hast not something gayer? Some song of the deeds of thy heroes or ours? Once were Saxon and Dane brothers from the same Alfadur, but now hath the Saxon forsaken his gods."

"Brothers they be still under the All-father," returned Alfred. "Brothers, Guthrum, in stronger bonds than those of yore. And brother's hand should not be lifted against brother."

"Thy harp," said Guthrum impatiently. "'Tis music I crave, not thy words."

Again did the king sing, and this time accompanied by the maiden. Guthrum raised his hand.

"Wait, skald. Wondrous is thy skill on the harp, and delectably also doth the maiden wield the cymbals. I would that my daughter should hear ye."

He motioned to some of his servitors, who left the hall, and soon returned bearing a chair in which was seated the form of a girl. She was very pale, but her dark eyes were bright, and her countenance, though wan, showed traces of beauty.

"What aileth thy daughter, O king?" came from Alfred pityingly as he looked on the white face of the girl.

"Her knee is swollen, and vain hath been all leech's care," returned Guthrum. "It hath been long since she hath stood. It pricks me to the heart thus for Hilda to be so sore afflicted."

"Her knee?" The Saxon king drew near the maiden. "Wheaten flour boiled in milk and applied while warm hath been known to work wonders for such misease. Knowest thou not that Cuthbert was so cured?"

"Cuthbert? No, I know naught of him. Was he afflicted as I?" spoke the Danish girl eagerly.

"In the very self-same manner, maiden. Listen and, if thou wishest, I will tell thee how the good saint was cured."

"But thy harp," interposed Guthrum. "Work no charm, sir skald, but give us of thy skill."

"Nay, my father," spake the maiden Hilda. "He worketh no charm, and I would hear of this Cuthbert. Speak on, skald."

Alfred looked at Guthrum, and the latter bowed in assent to his daughter's wish.

"Cuthbert," began the minstrel, "was a noble youth destined for a holy man. He had alway been straight and handsome, but all at once--

"The youth now bent beneath a sudden pain[2] And led his languid footsteps with a pine. When on a day as in the air he placed His weary limbs, and meek yet mourning lay, A horseman clothed in snowy garments came, And graceful as a courser:--He saluted The youth reclined, who offered his obeisance.

"My prompt attentions should be gladly paid To you if grievous pains did not withhold me; See how my knee is swelled--no leech's care Through a long lapse of time has soothed the evil." Straight leaped the stranger from his horse and stroked The part diseased, thus counselling:

"The flour Of wheat and milk boil quickly on a fire, And spread the mixture warm upon the tumor." Remounting then he took the road he came; And Cuthbert used his medicine, and found That his physicians from th' exalted throne Of the Supreme had come, and eased his pain, As with the fish's gall he once restored The light to poor Tobias."

[2] Bede's Life of St. Cuthbert.

"That is like me," said the Danish girl. "Oh, I wonder if that would avail my poor limb?"

"'Twill harm thee not to try it, and may it bring thee cure as it did Cuthbert."

"And ever will I hold thee in grateful memory should it do so," said Hilda. "Take this charm, minstrel, and if it cures as thou dost say, bring that to Hilda, and from this land's demesne shalt thou receive a jarl's share. Ay, with vill upon it, too."

Alfred hesitated.

"From this land's demesne?" he repeated. "Then dost thou own the land?"

"Not yet; but Alfred hath fled from our power, and soon will my father complete that which he hath so well begun. Fear not, minstrel! Thou shalt have thy share."

"But--" began Alfred.

"The king doth wax impatient," spake Egwina, quickly. "Should we not again soothe his brow with melody?"

"Thou speakest well," said Hilda. "I, too, would hear thy harp. Take the charm, minstrel, and bring it me should it fall out as thou hast said."

She extended the charm which Alfred took. Again the king and the maiden sang, and yet again. Guthrum rose from his seat and with his own hands bestowed gifts upon them.

"Wondrous is thy skill, and that of the maiden also," he said to Alfred. "Yet methinks that thou art not as are other skalds."

"Eager and willing am I to accept thy princely favors, O King, even as other skalds are," returned the minstrel. "Kingly are thy gifts, Guthrum, as doth become thee. Why sayest thou that I am not as the others?"

"Keen doth flash thine eye, and ever and anon thy glance doth penetrate as if to read my soul. An enemy would I say thou wert, but that thou hast looked with compassion upon mine afflicted one. And, minstrel, if thy cure doth work, add to what my child hath granted any boon that thou dost wish, and it shall be thine."

"I will remind thee of thy promise, my lord," and Alfred drew his gonna about him. "Long will the harper remember thy gifts, for generous have they been, and again may he seek thy favor."

He turned to leave, when there came a commotion from the lower end of the hall.

"Gyda, the seid woman hath come," came the cry, and into the room the witch woman ran.

"Guthrum! I would speak with Guthrum, the old," she cried. "This night have I been warned that the enemy is within the camp. The Dragon hath come forth from his lair. He is within thy walls, Guthrum! Seize him, lest he devour thee!"

"My king, we must fly," whispered Egwina, with pale face. "I fear the wicca, for she hath marvelous power."

"Nay," said Alfred. "Tremble not, little one. Be not afraid. There is One higher than wicca, in whose hands we are. Let us meet the danger as Saxons."

He turned and stood as if to hear what the seid woman said, and the trembling maiden drew close to his side.

"What is it that thou sayest, Gyda?" called Guthrum the king. "That an enemy is in our midst? Where is he that we may seize him?"

"Yon skald and the maiden are not what they seem," called the woman loudly.

"The skald! The skald! Where is the skald?" demanded an hundred voices at once. Alfred advanced into the centre of the hall.

"Who calls the skald?" he asked. "Wish ye more of harp and song that ye cannot let a man and his daughter pass?"

"Come hither, minstrel," commanded Guthrum as the tumult ceased suddenly at the sound of the voice of the harper. "And thou, Gyda! Come thou also, and make thine accusal."

Alfred looked fixedly at the woman. She quailed under his glance.

"My lord," he said to the Dane boldly, "if I seem not to be what I am, 'tis not the fault of the minstrel. In token of the truth of my words thou shalt find in the breast of the seid woman a jewel of gold. Look! if it be not there, do to the harper as thou wilt."

With a cry of rage the seid woman clasped her hands to her bosom.

"The runes were wrong," she gasped. "O my lord, take not from me the jewel. Again will I read the rede. Let the skald go, for I have wronged him."

"And thou hast the jewel even as he hath said?" queried Guthrum, looking from one to the other in perplexity.

"Yes, my lord."

"Then," said the Dane, turning to the minstrel who stood so calmly waiting his pleasure, "thou art a galdra smith (a wizard) as well as harper?"

"Nay," returned Alfred. "No charm do I work save that of a good conscience. Some little lore of leech craft have I, but that be all."

"And thou art truly a harper?" Guthrum knew not what to do, yet was loth to let him go.

"Hast thou not heard for thyself? Be thou my judge."

"True," said Guthrum. "What sayest thou, Gyda?"

"My lord, let the incantation be prepared for the seid woman; for this night hath her art misled her," returned Gyda, who sought to divert all minds from the jewel.

"Let the incantation be prepared," commanded the king.

"Go," whispered the Danish woman, and Alfred turned and without undue haste made his way unchidden from the hall.