“Once,” said Egwina, “when I was seven, grandfather and I were in Sherborne when King Ethelred passed through. Methought that he was handsome and noble in appearance, but granther said that I was too young to know much about it, that the atheling, Alfred, was handsomer by far and that the land would be better when he was king; not only for his talents, but also because our holy father, the pope, had crowned him king in Rome.” “Well! Drink hael to the king’s coming,” and the swineherd tossed off another horn of mead. At this moment footsteps were heard outside, the hound arose from his place before the fire with a low growl. There came a loud knock at the door. “Who goes there?” cried the Saxon striding to the entrance, fitting an arrow to his bow as he did so. “A wanderer in search of food and shelter. Open as ye be Saxons.” “The king has come,” laughed Denewulf, turning round with a broad wink at them. “Your best mead, Adiva.” Then throwing wide the door, he called heartily, for the Saxons were very hospitable: “Enter, wanderer! Thou art welcome to such as we have. Enter and find rest for thy weariness, and food for thy hunger.” Into the room there came a man whose manner was so commanding and his form so stately that he might in truth be king. He was tall, and his long hair of ruddy auburn fell in ringlets from under his bonnet on his shoulders. When the firelight fell upon it, it shone like burnished gold. His eyes were blue, very bright and penetrating in their glance. His countenance fair and at present pale from fatigue. His brow was high, noble, and thoughtful. In short, his mien was so august, his port so noble that Adiva and Egwina both gazed upon him with awe. Not so Denewulf. The simple-hearted Saxon found something in the stranger that answered to himself, for he smiled graciously upon him, and seated him near the fire. “Sit here, stranger, and warm thyself while the wife prepares the meat for thee. Sorry am I that thou didst not come sooner, for the meat was hot, and it would have pleased us well to have had thy company.” The stranger smiled a sweet, grave smile as he answered: “It matters not if the meat be cold. Trouble not thyself, good dame. He who hath fasted since yesterday will not find fault though the food lack heat.” “Dear heart!” exclaimed the dame bustling about. “And hast thou taken nought since yesterday? Marry, but it must be piping hot for thee, man. Thou shalt have a good supper.” In a short time the stranger sat down to the table and partook of the repast. Egwina could not but notice the difference in his manner of eating and that of their hosts, who, kind people though they were, still lacked refinement. When the stranger’s hunger was appeased, Denewulf filled a horn from the tankard, and passing it to him, said: “Drink hael, man! ’Twill warm thee, and chill blows the wind in the forest.”