“Wass hael,” responded the guest, courteously including Egwina and the wife in the health. “To ye both, good dame and gentle maiden, and to thee also, ceorl, for thy kindness,” and he quaffed the horn. When Denewulf would have replenished the cup, he shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I care not for more.” “Then,” said the swineherd, “tell of thyself, and how thou art alone in the weald. Didst lose thy way? I trow that thou didst, for few there be who dwell not among the fens that can find the way out when once within its depths.” “Is it so impenetrable?” inquired the stranger. “So much so,” replied the swineherd with a chuckle, “that if the whole Danish army were lost in its fastnesses, they would die before finding their way out; unless some Saxon were niddering enow to show it.” “Then I would that the Danes were within its depths,” ejaculated the stranger with fervor. “Vain have been the efforts of the Saxons to resist them, and it would be a happy ending of the matter.” “Thou fleest, then, from the Dane?” queried Adiva. “Yes; they are ravaging the whole of Wessex.” “Good stranger, knowest aught of the king?” cried Egwina. “I hope that he is safe.” “I trow that he is,” returned the stranger, smiling sweetly at her. “She was wishing that the king were here with us when thou didst knock at the door,” chuckled Denewulf. “Why fearest thou for the king? Dost know him?” “No; but if the king be safe then is there hope for the land. Doth he not carry the hearts of the people with him?” “I trow not, maiden. Hadst thou seen him as I saw him last, thou wouldst know that he did not. Forsaken and alone, Alfred hath gone none knows whither.” “Oh!” exclaimed the girl, the tears coming to her eyes, “sayest thou so? The king forsaken! How could they leave him, so noble, so good is he! Is not their allegiance his? Methinks that were I a man naught but death could make me unleal to the king. As it is, I am but a girl and can do naught but pray for him every day that he be kept safe, and that the people will rally around him again.” “Do so, child! Thy pure prayers may accomplish that which the king hath not the power to do. If all Saxons were like thee the Dane would seek another land to ravage.” “The maiden hath cause to pray for the king,” broke in the dame, who had remained silent as long as she could. “What cause hath she?” “Well—but what shall I call thee?” demanded Adiva. “Call me Wilfred.” “Well, Wilfred, I will tell thee her tale, and then Denewulf shall tell thee how he found the child.” And the good dame related the maiden’s story. Then Denewulf told again of the wolves, and Egwina listened blushingly to their praises. “Of brave heart art thou, maiden,” said Wilfred with compassion in his look and voice. “Brave was thy grandfather in his death. ’Twas such that a Saxon might be proud of. ’Tis pity that the king knew not of it.” “My grandfather would like best to know that the king were safe,” returned Egwina.