"So long as there are vikings in Denmark, and ships to sail the sea, they will come," answered Wulnoth. "Well, O King, I will do thy bidding and seek out the Bishop."
"Methinks," said the King slowly, "I might do worse than try to have thee made king there." But to that Wulnoth answered quickly—
"Nay, nay, Alfred, that may not be. I am no kingly man. I should rule by hard blows, and have no head for the business of state. Each man to his own trade, O King, and mine is fighting—not ruling and law making."
"Perchance thou art right, Wulnoth," the King answered. "Thou art wise at any rate, for 't is no light task to be a king."
"And no king do I desire to be," answered Wulnoth; and then he went in haste and bade adieu to Edgiva, and saddled his horse and started off with no better company than his sword and his axe, and his good shield slung at his back.
And from Wessex he rode northwards into Mercia, and there he met with King Guthrun, who had gone thither on business from East Anglia; and with the Dane he tarried a day and a night while his good steed rested.
Now, Wulnoth thought that perchance Guthrun might know something of what became of Guthred, and he asked him if he had ever heard the sons of Regner Lodbrok speak of the matter.
"Ay," answered Guthrun, "and I have often thought that it was but a poor thing to sell a lad, and a king's son, into slavery, for that is what they did. I know not of a certainty, but I heard that the boy was sold to a Danish holda, who soon afterwards sailed for England in the days when the first invasion was. That is all I know. Most likely he has died long since."
"I fear that it must be so," sighed Wulnoth, and his heart felt sad as he thought of a king's son sold into such slavery. But then he thought of what Wyborga had said—how she had prophesied that he and the Prince and Edgiva should all meet again, and the Prince should reign in another land; and that seemed a very hard saying to him.
Well, after bidding farewell to Guthrun, Wulnoth resumed his journey and rode northwards; and everywhere he saw the tokens of the bad times that had been, for the land lay desolate and lonely, and there were no people to till it. And in those fields where the grass grew darkest and longest he knew that the war game had been played, and that the grass grew because men lay buried beneath.