CHAPTER XVII--THE WINNING OF A BUCKLER

The time at last was ripe to strike the final blow. By his visit into Guthrum's camp, Alfred had learned the numbers, disposition and discipline of the Danes. After satisfying himself as to the chances of a sudden attack, he had returned to Athelney and sent messengers to the thegns and ealdormen of neighboring shires, giving them a tryst for the second week in May.

Egbert's stone, twenty-six miles east of Selwood, was the place of the tryst. The signal for the gathering of the forces was to be a beacon light kindled on the top of Stourton's hill, where Alfred's Tower now stands. The light would be hidden from the Danes by the range of Wiltshire hills, while it would be visible to the low country towards the Bristol Channel and to the south as far as Dorsetshire.

The time had finally come for the decisive blow to fall, so Ethelfleda and Egwina, whom the former had generously consented should accompany her, set forth, with Edward and Ethelred for protection, to light the beacon.

"Prithee, Ethelfleda, let me carry the coals," said Ethelred. "Thou has carried them a long way already, and I fear that thou wilt be tired."

"Nay; there is naught to tire me," said Ethelfleda. "Besides, I wish to carry the embers, Ethelred. I like not to have other hands than mine touch them."

"How strong thou art in thy purpose, Ethelfleda," said the young man with admiration. "Naught deters thee from thy enterprises after thou hast entered upon them. Art thou never discouraged?"

"Sometimes," confessed the maiden. "Yet, Ethelred, when once a purpose hath formed itself within my mind, I cannot loosen my hold upon it. Discouragements and doubts may crowd thick and fast upon me; but, I know not why, my purpose doth shine bright and clear through them all, and towards it I needs must wend my way."

"I would that it were so with me," retorted the young man. "But ofttimes doth happenings turn me from my purpose. Would that I had thy perseverance."

"'Tis a virtue that can be cultivated," said the girl gayly as she looked at the embers which she carried in an earthen vessel. "Here we are, Ethelred, and for thy pleasant words thou shalt hold the embers until I need them." She gave the vessel into his hands, and sank down before the great heap of brushwood which had been gathered for the beacon.

"Almost," said she solemnly, "do I feel like offering a sacrifice on this fire that all may end as my father doth desire."

"It would not please him, sister, to have aught rendered that savored of heathenism," said Edward. "Here are some fine twigs for the starting."

Ethelfleda took them.

"Now, Ethelred, the coals," she called. They were given her in silence, and the girl carefully fanned the embers until the fine stuff ignited. Then she arose and the four stood and watched the flames as they caught twig after twig creeping up, up, until finally the whole pile became a blazing mass which leaped and crackled, darting tongues of flame higher and higher until the surrounding wood was ruddy in the glare. The figures of the four were silhouetted against the light in bold relief, and so, standing out against the background of those dark ages, have the pictures of those four come down to us.

On the morrow Ethelfleda's own hands buckled the sword round Ethelred's waist, while Edward chafed that he must remain.

"But another year and I too should go," he said, appealing to Egwina for sympathy. "O Egwina, dost thou not think that my father would let me go? A little year! What is it that it should make a difference?"

But Alfred turned a deaf ear to their pleadings, and Edward was forced to the inactivity of a non-combatant. The forces left with high hopes. Listlessly the lad wandered about, unable to occupy himself. At last he sought Egwina's side.

"I cannot content myself here," he said, "while yonder the battle may rage. 'Tis custom for women and maidens to follow from afar, why not for youths also? Wilt thou go with me, Egwina, to watch the issue of the fray?"

"Gladly, Edward," answered Egwina rising, "if thou wilt promise that thou wilt not rush into it."

"I am not old enough," said the youth scornfully. "O Egwina, it breaketh my heart that I am not yet able to strike for my country, but I will bide my time."

So the two set forth and followed after the army. Alfred had gathered his forces first at Egbert's stone where the whole army had collected. The Saxons received him with acclamations of joy. Moving swiftly, Alfred then fell upon the pagans at Ethandune. They were taken completely by surprise.

The chief fault of the Saxons hitherto had been that they fought in an uncompact manner, and the Danes could overwhelm them by surrounding a part at a time. This Alfred had tried to overcome by direction and drill until now they fell upon the Danes an organized, skilled force. Furiously did the Northmen receive the assault. The discharge of the Saxon arrows was succeeded by the attack of the lances, and soon it became a personal conflict of swords. The Danes resisted with their customary intrepidity, but their efforts though furious were unavailing. Closer and closer to the combatants crept Edward and Egwina. The boy's eyes were dilated with excitement. He trembled but not with fear. Suddenly Alfred's own standard of the golden dragon upon a white ground, which Adiva and Gunnehilde had woven, tottered and fell. The standard-bearer was struck down with his death blow.

"The standard! the king's own standard is down!" screamed Edward, wildly. "It must not be!"

"Edward! Edward!" shrieked Egwina, but the boy heard not, or if he heard, he did not heed. Over the intervening space he flew; snatched a sword from a dead body as he went, and then right to the front he ran, and hoisted the standard on high. The flying figure of the lad as he appeared amongst them thrilled the superstitious Saxons with awe. Alfred saw his son as he dashed into the thick of the fray, and as he noted with what bravery he bore himself, a smile of pride lighted up his face.

"Marry, the boy bears himself as if he were St. Neot come to lead us to victory!"

A Saxon near heard the word St. Neot, and saw the king gazing in the direction of the boy. Instantly he sent up the cry that St. Neot was in the midst of them. Through the Saxon lines it ran and raised their spirits to fever heat. Mad with enthusiasm, their resolute attack was everywhere irresistible, and the Northmen gave way. Their bodies strewed the plain. Of those that remained living, many fled in different directions, and the rest took refuge with Guthrum in the neighboring fortifications.

Alfred was master of the field. By one decisive blow he had broken the force of the Danish invasion. The fleeing Northmen were pursued and slaughtered. Then the king sat down before the fortress, calmly awaiting the surrender that must follow. After fourteen days, Guthrum, oppressed by want, cold and despair, sent overtures of peace, which the king, being filled with pity, accepted.

The pagans promised to leave the kingdom, after giving hostages to Alfred and receiving none, which thing had never been done before. Guthrum, being moved by the noble conduct of the king, signified his intention of embracing Christianity, much to the good Alfred's delight. Seven weeks afterward, Guthrum, accompanied by thirty of his jarls, were baptized at a place called Aller, near Athelney, and there King Alfred received him as his son by adoption.

After eight days, during which time the Danes wore, in accordance with the custom of the times, the Chrismal--a white linen cloth put on the head when the rite of baptism was performed; the eighth day what was known as the Chrism-loosing, or removal of the cloths, took place at Wedmore, into which royal vill Alfred now repaired with his family and Egwina.

Here, too, did he receive Guthrum, or Athelstan, as we shall now have to call him, for that was the name he received from the king at his baptism.

At Alfred's invitation, Athelstan brought his family and abode with him for twelve days. And behold! the maiden Hilda walked straight and fair. Seeing this, the king approached her.

"Did the wheat flour, boiled in milk, applied hot, work thy cure?" he asked.

"It did, my lord," returned the maiden. "How knowest thou of it? It was told me by a skald who sang for us with his daughter."

From the folds of his gonna Alfred drew the charm which she had given him.

"Behold, maiden, thy charm. Now do I crave the fulfilment of thy promise."

"Was it thou?" cried she, in surprise. "My father said that the skald was not what he seemed, but naught could he learn from the seid women concerning him. But alack! No longer have I power to give vill or jarl's proportion of land."

"None do I crave, Hilda, so that thou art healed," answered Alfred.

"Didst thou not say that thou wert what thou seemest?" queried Athelstan.

"Nay; I but said that if I were not that which I seemed, it was not the fault of the minstrel," answered Alfred. "Dost thou not remember?"

"I remember, Alfred, and nobly has thou borne thyself both as foe and friend. Easy is it to forgive the deceptions upon me for out of that grew the pity for the misfortune of another. Though she were the daughter of thy foe, thou didst generously give her cure for misease."

"Thou wouldst have done the same, Athelstan," returned the king. "At once did I feel that there was that in thee which spake a kindred to me."

"And this is thy son?" Athelstan turned to Edward who stood near. "To him, King Alfred, as much as to thy prowess I truly believe the victory belongs. What a noble charge he made as unhelmed he rushed into the fray! Young though is he for battle."

Alfred smiled proudly.

"Without permission did he join us," he said. "Young the boy is. 'Twill not be until next year that he will be old enow for buckler. But for his bravery, he shall not need to wait his year. Edward hath taught me that a king's son matureth sooner than others. Which remindeth me, my son, that thou hast not yet received thy guerdon. This night repair thee to the priest and make confession of thy sins, watching the night through with prayer. On the morrow thou shalt then be declared a legitimate miles."

Overcome with joy at this news, Edward hastened to tell it to Ethelfleda and Egwina.

"Never again will I tease thee, Edward, about thy age," said Ethelfleda. "Thou art truly a man in heart if not in years."

Egwina joined in the commendation of his valor.

The night having been passed in accordance with the custom, in prayer and watching, the next morning in the presence of a great concourse of people, Edward heard mass. Then, having put on a purple robe girded by a belt set with gems to which was attached a golden sheath for his sword, the gift of his father, the youth repaired again to the church and offered his sword upon the altar.

The priest read from the Gospel, and, taking the sword, blessed it and placed it on the youth's neck with his benediction. The sacrament was administered to him, and then Edward arose, a full-fledged Saxon warrior.

"To my country do I consecrate this weapon," said he solemnly. "May God judge me if it be lifted other than in her service."

"May He help you to keep that vow, my son," said Alfred.

And the years have proven how nobly the boy fulfilled his oath.