Thus adjured, the maiden sat by his side as was her wont, while the king turned to the Saxons. “Ye have said that the people murmur at the oppression of the Danes,” he said. “Think ye that they would rise against them?” “When the people know of thy whereabouts,” returned the oldest of the group, whom the others called Athelnoth, “naught can prevent them from rising. Oft have they wondered what had become of thee, and some mourned thee as dead. It will glad their hearts to know that thou art alive.” “Yet they came not at my summons,” mused the king. “And I must hide, perforce, lest any, knowing of my whereabouts, should bewray me to Guthrum.” “Think not too hardly of them, my lord and king,” cried Athelnoth eagerly. “Fruitless seemed the task of resistance. Their brethren in Mercia and East Anglia dwelt among the Northmen in seeming peace. Now they see that ‘Death is preferable to the shame of servitude.’” “I think not less of them,” said the noble Alfred, “but only how best to relieve them of their bondage. I think it not wise that ye should spread broadcast the news that I live and meditate an uprising, lest it reach the ears of the Dane. Everything depends upon secrecy and the suddenness of attack.” “What then shall we do?” queried Athelnoth. “Have any of ye aught to suggest?” Alfred glanced at the group around him. “Ethelred, thou art quick to think, what sayest thou?” Ethelred had remained silent since the king had declared himself, and beyond the greeting given to him had said nothing. “Naught, my lord,” he now replied. “Why shouldst thou heed the words of him who hath twice this day drawn sword on his king?” “Marry, boy! ’Twas but the hot-headiness of youth. That thou art leal to the king was shown when thou wouldst have slain him who refused to drink to him. I trust thee, Ethelred. Thy quickness in a few short years will be replaced by maturity of judgment. The one precedes the other. Think not ere the down on thy chin hath given place to one of manlier fashion that thou wilt have the wisdom of a sage. Sit up, man, and help us.” “Then,” said the youth, mollified, “I would advise, my lord and king, that the people be not yet told of thy whereabouts. Tell only those ealdormen and others whom thou mayest need who can be trusted. In this way can we know those who are leal, and if aught can be done.” “Well and wisely hast thou spoken,” declared the king. “If the Saxons will rally round my standard as of yore, the Dragon will sweep the Raven from the land. But there should be some place of meeting—some spot to become ready.” “My king,” spoke Denewulf, “if I may be so bold as to suggest something. Not far from here, at the meeting of the Thone and the Parret, there lies an island surrounded by morasses. A whole army might lie concealed in its fens and none be the wiser.” “Denewulf, thou, too, art wise, and hast spoken well. To-morrow will we wend to this island, and see it for ourselves.”