It is recorded that, whilst Alfred was an inmate of this abode, the neat-herd's wife, who did not know him, having occasion to quit the cottage for a time, set him the task of watching the cakes of rye-bread which were baking on the fire. The king, whose mind was distracted by far more important subjects, neglected his instructions, and when the woman returned she found the cakes blackened and burnt. If tradition speaks truly, the virago chid him soundly, reproaching him that he was more ready to eat than to work. In this miserable concealment the fugitive remained six months, when fortune, tired of persecuting him, appeared to relent, and once more smiled upon the efforts of the brave, but hitherto unlucky, English. Hubba, who had been entrusted by his brother Ingvar with the command of his troops, had invaded Wales, laying the country in flames, ravaging, and destroying. He afterwards penetrated into Devonshire, in the kingdom of Wessex, with a similar intent. At his approach the Alderman of Devon retreated with a body of determined men to Kenworth Castle, on the river Taw, in order to withstand them. The Danish chief not long before had decided on attacking the fortress, believing that the scanty garrison would surrender at his first summons; in which opinion, however, he was doomed to find himself mistaken, for the earl, seeing that it was impossible to defend the place with so few men, however devoted, told them frankly that one only course was left for them, to conquer and live free men, or die beneath the swords of their relentless enemy. His harangue had the desired effect: the English, animated by his words, sallied forth, and fell upon the Danes so unexpectedly, that before they could recover from their panic their leader was slain; on seeing which, his followers fled in all directions. The spot where Hubba fell was afterwards called Hubblestain, or Hubblelaw, from the monument raised over his remains by his countrymen.