While they were still at their meal, Bertric, who sat near a window, cried out, "I see a horseman coming from Warwick."
The panting steed was soon reined up in front of the drawbridge, which was down as usual; and, passing beneath the arched gate, the rider dismounted in the courtyard.
All the household were soon assembled to hear his news. He bore a sealed missive addressed to the Thane; but he gave the secret of the night's alarm in a few words.
"They are in Wessex, plundering, murdering, and burning. The forces are all to meet at Dorchester as soon as man and horse can get there."
"Where did they land?"
"The great fleet came to Sandwich, and they are advancing westward as fast as they can come."
"Are they merciless as ever?"
"Worse."
"The fiends!" said Bertric bitterly; and then seeing Alfgar's saddened face, said, "Oh, I beg pardon," which made matters worse.
"You are not a Dane, Alfgar; you are a Christian; no one thinks of you as one."