The Dragon and the Raven; Or, The Days of King AlfredHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
The Dragon and the Raven; Or, The Days of King Alfred
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Great Britain -- History -- Alfred, 871-899 -- Fiction
"Ah!" Edmund said, "you do not know here how cruel are the ravages of
the Danes; our homes are broken up and our villages destroyed, and
every forest in the land is peopled with fugitive Saxons. Did you know
that you would speak less harshly of those here. At any rate the man I
seek is young and fair-looking, and would, I should think"--and he
smiled as he remembered Alfred's studious habits--"be one of the most
shiftless of those here."
"There is such a one," the man replied, "and several times friends of
his have been hither to see him. He dwells at my next neighbour's, who
is often driven well-nigh out of her mind--for she is a dame with a
shrewish tongue and sharp temper--by his inattention. She only asks of
him that he will cut wood and keep an eye over her pigs, which wander
in the forest, in return for his food; and yet, simple as are his
duties, he is for ever forgetting them. I warrant me, the dame would
not so long have put up with him had he not been so fair and helpless.
However bad-tempered a woman may be, she has always a tender corner in
her heart for this sort of fellow. There, you can take this path
through the trees and follow it on; it will take you straight to her
cottage."
The description given by the man tallied so accurately with that of the
king that Edmund felt confident that he was on the right track. The
fact, too, that from time to time men had come to see this person added
to the probability of his being the king. Presently they came upon the
hut. A number of pigs were feeding under the trees around it; the door
was open, and the shrill tones of a woman's voice raised in anger could
be heard as they approached.
"You are an idle loon, and I will no longer put up with your ways, and
you may seek another mistress. You are worse than useless here. I do
but ask you to watch these cakes while I go over to speak with my
neighbour, and inquire how she and the child born yestereven are
getting on, and you go to sleep by the fire and suffer the case to burn.
"You were not asleep, you say? then so much the worse. Where were your
eyes, then? And where was your nose? Why, I smelt the cakes a hundred
yards away, and you sitting over them, and as you say awake, neither
saw them burning nor smelt them! You are enough to break an honest
woman's heart with your mooning ways. You are ready enough to eat when
the meal-time comes, but are too lazy even to watch the food as it
cooks. I tell you I will have no more of you. I have put up with you
till I am verily ashamed of my own patience; but this is too much, and
you must go your way, for I will have no more of you."
At this moment Edmund and Egbert appeared at the door of the hut. As he
had expected from the nature of the colloquy Edmund saw King Alfred
standing contrite and ashamed before the angry dame.
"My beloved sovereign!" he cried, running in and falling on his knees.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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