But even while they looked another fire appeared in an opposite direction, and Bertric saw his father turn grave. "It is the beacon fire," said he seriously. "Yes it is, and see it is answered from the hills to the north," said Alfgar. Then they were silent, and Bertric felt his spirits sink with a vague kind of apprehension. They said no more till they reached home, and the whole family met, much later than usual, at the evening meal. "You are late," said Hilda to her lord. "We were returning home from the meadows on the water, whence the last load of hay has been carried, and we tarried for the compline at the priory. The bell sounded as we were passing." "Did you see the bonfire on the hills? It must be a large one." "I did; and it made me uneasy." "Why so, my Elfwyn?" "You forget that when the last invasion of our pagan foes was over, it was agreed in the Witan that a set of beacons should be prepared, in readiness to fire, on the tops of the hills, and that if the Danes appeared again, they should be fired everywhere, in which case Mercia was to hold herself in readiness to come to the aid of Wessex or East Anglia, whichever the foe might be harrying." "But then that was eighteen months agone." "Still the beacon piles remain or did remain. I saw one at the summit of the hills which the trackway crosses between our county and Oxfordshire, when I last returned form Beranbyrig {v}, and I think that one gives the present alarm. It means the Danes are again in the land." "Now, God forbid!" said Hilda, with clasped hands. "Amen say we all; but I fear me such will be the case, unless some poor fool has set the pile blazing for amusement. I fancied I saw it answered away north and west. We will go and see anon." Supper being ended, Elfwyn rose to go out, and his example was followed by Alfgar and Bertric, and several of the serfs, who from the lower end of the ample board had heard with much alarm the previous conversation. Ascending the hill, they directed their steps towards the highest point, where an old watchtower had once been reared, composed of timber, and overlooking the forest. From the summit the party gazed over three or four counties lying dimly beneath them in the still moonlight. The mist, slowly rising from the river and forest, partially obscured the immediate view, and hid the valley beneath in smoke-like wreaths; but the distant hills rose above. There three large fires immediately caught the eye, and confirmed the apprehensions. One was on the summit of the range culminating on the spot now known as Edgehill, lying about ten miles south; but on the west Malvern Heights had caught the flame, and on the far north the Leicestershire hills sent forth their reddening fire in more than one spot. "The country has taken the alarm," said the Thane. "What must we do, father?"