"Now, O King, if there is any power in thy God, let it be shown; for this time there will be no mistake. Hungwar and Guthrun have made friends again, and they march together, and I tell thee that from end to end of thy kingdom they will leave nothing but ruin and death. Thou shouldst have crushed the head while thou hadst it in thy power to do so, and then perchance the tail would have died. Now head and tail are joined, and there comes a terror to the land, O King. Of a truth there comes a terror."
"Let us not meet trouble till it comes, Wanderer," the King answered. "Ho! my thanes, go forth and summon me all my bands—all who can bear war gear and carry lance—and this time, as the Wanderer says, an end shall be made."
So the thanes went forth, and they came back with a sad tale, which they told with hanging heads. The fear of the foe was in all the land, and men were weary of being harried and marched to war, and every one was fleeing. Churls and thralls, thanes and sethcundmen, all alike had gone, fleeing. Many of them had gone across the narrow waters to the island beyond—the Isle of Wight—while others bowed in submission to the invaders; and Alfred the King found himself a King without a people, with hardly any whom he could look to, with his best soldiers melting away, as the snow melts when the sun shines upon it.
Oh! bitter was it to the King, and bitter was it to the brave hearts who loved him; for now it seemed as if the kingdom of Wessex would share the fate of the rest of the land, and groan under the rod of the pagan.
And then spake Wulnoth again, and he said—
"Now up and let us act, for these Danes will give us little rest if they once come up with us; and though I fear not death, I have somewhat to do ere I close my eyes. I have a word for Hungwar, and I have a quest to make. Come, King, and come, comrades, and never be discouraged. We must flee for the time, but it will not be forever that we are to remain hidden.
"The sun may be hidden by a cloud for the time, O King, but it is not lost forever."
"But what shall we do with our dear ones, our tender ones?" cried the King. "With whom shall we leave them?"
"With whom dost thou think they will tarry, son, save with those they love?" answered Osburga, speaking stoutly. "Do we fear the cold, and the wet, more than the risk of being taken by the wicked Danes? Nay, son, I, thy mother, go with thee, for one; and so does thy royal spouse Elswitha, and her attendant, the Lady Edgiva, herself a royal princess."
"This may not be," cried the King; but the others said that the words were wise words, and that so they would have less care than if the Queen were left unprotected and alone.