And it chanced that one day Alfred the King came to a rude hut hidden away in a desolate place, where dwelt a poor neatherd, alas now with but few cattle to attend, and those he had to hide away in the middle of the marshland, else they had surely been stolen by the enemy. "Now, Osric, my friend," said Alfred, "I must to-day receive tidings from Hugoline. Go thou and glean them, and I will abide here. I will seek shelter with these good people, and tarry for your return." "Will they not betray you?" asked Osric, for he knew of the Danes' words to the peasants. But the King smiled and answered-- "Who would know in this poor way-worn wanderer the King of Wessex? My very misery makes me safe, friend. Go, and rest satisfied that I may tarry here in security." So Osric went; and Alfred approached the cottage and knocked with his staff, and then, waiting, he heard sounds of strife within, and a woman railing at some one, and he said to himself-- "We have a shrewish tongue here, a weapon that the bravest man may well fear." Then the door opened, and a man looking somewhat flurried, appeared, and asked what he might want. "I beg for a shelter and a little food," said the King. And then a woman appeared, and cried shrilly that they had little enough for themselves, and that they had no wish to bestow that on thriftless wanderers who were doubtless too lazy to work for their living. "Turn him away, goodman," she said to her husband. "Turn him away, and let him taste thy cudgel." Now the man looked as though he would have liked to admit the King; and as Alfred was turning to go, he touched him slyly, and, thrusting his tongue into his cheek, he said aloud-- "Yes, indeed, get you gone, rogue. Dost think that we will harbor such as thou art? Most like thou hast been serving with the King; and the Danes have ordered us to give no aid to any such." And then he received a sounding smack on his cheek; and his wife, her eyes flashing with anger, cried-- "Now out on thee for a nithing! Shall we indeed be ordered about by the Danes? I would I had them here, I would trounce them with my besom handle. Art thou going to turn one of our own countrymen from the door because the Danes ordered it, forsooth? Thou hadst better do as a true man should, and hasten to find the King, and offer him thy service. There, get to thy work; tending cattle is all thou art fit for; and as for thee, stranger, come in and tarry; and not all the Danes in the land shall direct what I am to do." "'T was the only way to get over her," whispered the man, with a grin. "Nay, never mind for the clout I received, I am pretty used to her hand. Well, thou hast got to stay with her to-day, and not I, and her temper is waspish--the Lord save thee from her tongue, and grant she may be better tempered when I return this evening." So Alfred went in, and the woman snapped out, as if half repenting of her kindness, that he must make himself useful and bring her in kindlings.