There was so much of command in his manner as he spake that the youth hesitated, not wishing to be thought deficient in courage by his comrades and yet unable to proceed against this calm stranger. “Abide by his words, Ethelred,” cried one of the others. “Thou wert in truth too bold in thy speech, and hast thou not partaken of their hospitality? Out, man!” Sullenly the one called Ethelred sheathed his sword, resumed his seat, and soon the episode passed from the minds of the party. Egwina slipped into a seat on the other side of Wilfred. The dame joined the swineherd in the serving of mead, and preparing meat for the guests. Soon the hut rang with their glee. “How bear the people the rule of the Northmen?” asked Wilfred during a lull in the mirth. “Hardly,” spake one who was a man about his own age. “Those who lived near the coasts have crossed into Gaul or other countries for the succour which they obtained not in their own land. Others seek by submission to mitigate the ferocity of the pagans. Others still, seek to retain part of their property by the sacrifice of a portion. Others again, seek refuge and safety in the recesses of the forest. All groan under the rule of the oppressors, and none there be to oppose them sith the king is gone.” “None?” shouted the youth Ethelred, springing to his feet. “None, sayest thou? None! Nay; here is one!” “And here is another,” and another Saxon flashed his sword in the air. “And another!” “And another!” shouted each and every one of the party, until all were on their feet. “Let us seek the king, and form an army!” shouted Ethelred. “Then, with him as leader, will the Northman make food for the raven. Drink hael to the death of the Dane.” All drank. Another cried: “Drink hael to the king!” “Drink hael to the king!” All drank but Wilfred. “Marry, man! Drinkest thou not to the king?” cried Ethelred in wrath. “Drink to the king, else thou shalt answer to me.” But Wilfred touched not the mead. “Drink,” shouted all together as their swords flashed in the air. “Drink or defend thyself.” Even Denewulf and Adiva looked inquiringly at the stranger who stood so calmly in their midst, and still drank not to the king. Egwina crept close to his side, fearful of his safety. “Drink,” cried the Saxons again, “drink,” and they made a dash at him. “Back! Would ye strike your king?” [Illustration: _“BACK! WOULD YOU STRIKE YOUR KING?”_] CHAPTER X—EGWINA GOES AS A MESSENGER “The king!” The Saxons fell back, their swords still half-suspended, and looked at him incredulously. Denewulf stood aghast. Adiva sank on a bench near her, while Egwina’s face lighted up in joyful amazement. “The king!” cried the youth, Ethelred. “How wot we that thou art the king?” “Know ye the signet ring of the king?” The stranger drew a ring from his finger. It was of massive gold, the bezel being engraved with a dove within an olive wreath.