“Yes, my lord, but I wished to spare my king upon his wedding day, still I have not spared myself. The necessary steps are taken, your immediate vassals are summoned, and my own men are ready to march; we will sweep these rebels off the field.” “Elfric,” said the king, “you must be my right hand in the field: you will be ready to invade your native Mercia tomorrow. Think you your own friends are firm?” “My father, although he has disowned me, would never disown his lawful king; the duty and love he bore to your murdered father would forbid.” “Well, Redwald, have you known this many hours?” “I heard it at the frontier town of Mercia, Reading, last night, and took all my measures immediately.” “Then, can we really depend upon Wessex?” “I treat so indeed, my lord, else we should be in a very bad way indeed.” “Well, we must rest now. Elgiva, darling, this is a cold termination to our first anniversary, but your husband’s love shall ever protect you until he be cold in death. “Goodnight, Elfric, be ready for the morrow. “Goodnight, Redwald, trustiest warrior who ever served grateful lord. “Goodnight, gentlemen all.” And thus the royal party broke up, and thus ended the first anniversary of the ill-starred union. On the morrow all was haste and confusion in the royal palace. Elgiva departed early for Winchester, which, being farther removed from the frontier, was safer than London from any sudden excursion on the part of the Mercians, and the city was also devoted to the royal family. The citizens of London were directed to provide for the defence of their city, while the royal guards, attended by the immediate vassals of the crown, prepared to march into the heart of the rebellious district. It is too often supposed that the feudal system was of Norman importation, whereas its very foundation—the act of homage, or of “becoming your man,”—was brought by the Saxons and Angles from their German home. The lord was the protector of the vassal, but the vassal was bound to attend his feudal superior both in peace and war. So imperative was this obligation, that a vassal who abandoned his lord in the field of battle was liable to the death of a traitor. Therefore Edwy soon found himself at the head of a compact body of ten thousand men, all bound to stand by him to death. But there was one very disheartening circumstance, which attracted notice. No volunteers joined the little army, although a royal proclamation had promised lands from the territories of the rebels to each successful combatant in the cause of Edwy and Elgiva. The fear of the Church hung on all, the conviction that the law of both Church and State had been broken by the young king; the universal belief in the sanctity of Dunstan, and in the true patriotism of Odo whom they called “the good;” the thoughtless misgovernment since the wiser counsellors had dispersed—all these things weakened the hearts of the followers of Edwy.