“She hath,” answered the gleeman, “and gracious is the lady in the asking. Egwina, Elswitha would hear thee sing. Thy sweetest, child! ’Tis the Lady who asks thee.” Then timidly the maiden arose. The company hushed the noisy revel, and listened as the sweet voice of the girl sounded through the hall. Her voice quavered slightly when she began, but the maiden on the dais smiled reassuringly at her, and she took courage. It grew stronger and then pealed forth in all its strength and beauty: “Alone sits the exile, Alone on the plain; And the voice of the south wind Speaks to him in vain. “For back hath his fancy Flown to his lord; When oft he had followed him With arrow and sword. “Again does he seem to feel As of old his caresses; The thought is so sweet to him. The awakening distresses. “No friends hath he now, Nor lord for to follow; Long have they been estranged, Life seem but hollow. “Naught doth earth hold for him; No surcease of sorrow: For hunger of heartache Fails comfort to borrow. “Cold, cold is his earth dwelling, Care sits on his brow; Joyless his dark abode, Bereft is he now. “Those he hath loved in life The tomb now is holding; Fain would he join them there For rest he is needing.” The sad little strain produced a few moments of silence, and then again, after vociferous plaudits for the maiden, the uproar broke forth. As Egwina sat down, the maiden Ethelfleda descended from the dais, and came to her. ”Thou art the maiden and this is thy father who were so kind to me in Andred’s Weald,” she said, taking Egwina by the hand. “Often have I wondered about thee, and hoped to see thee again. Now thou shalt stay with me, and thou shalt, if thou wilt, teach me some of thy pretty songs. Sweetly dost thou sing, but it hath made my heart sad to hear thy little plaint.” ”An it please thee, maiden, she shall sing another, merrier and more suited to the feast,” interposed Wulfhere, “I know not why the child chose so sad a theme.”[SYNC] “It doth please me,” said Ethelfleda. “But come! Before thou dost sing again, thou shalt drink hael with the lady Elswitha.” To the old man’s joy he saw his granddaughter led to the dais where Alfred’s wife sat. The lady graciously arose to receive the girl. With her own hand she proffered the cup. Just as Egwina was lifting the goblet to her lips, a great noise was heard without. There was the crash of arms, the hoarse shout of battle, and then the portals were flung wide, and the warder shouted: “The Dane, the Dane!” CHAPTER V—THE DEATH OF A HERO Instantly the wildest confusion prevailed. The Saxons, half-dazed by the suddenness of the attack, sprang for their arms which hung upon the walls of the hall. Such a thing as a winter campaign had hitherto been unknown, and they were taken completely by surprise.