“But thou hast also a proud bearing,” and the girl looked anxious.
“Not more so than thy grandsire,” said Elswitha with a smile. “He did deport himself full of pride.”
“And the gifts,” went on the maiden. “Canst thou receive them humbly and gratefully from the gift stool?”
“Never fear, little one. Alfred hath been forced to pillage for food itself lately, and his pride hath been brought very low.”
So the king disguised himself as a minstrel, and with Egwina, the gleemaiden, set forth for the camp of the Dane. After they had emerged from the forest, they began singing and playing as they wended their way through the villages. The people flocked after them, and many were the invitations extended to tarry at some hall, but the supposed minstrel and his daughter refused them, and kept steadily on their way to the Danish camp.
It was a well fortified place, and, as they approached, the keen eyes of the king noted how impregnable its walls were.
“Should we ever succeed in freeing the land from the invaders,” he said thoughtfully, “the lesson will not have been in vain. Behold those walls, Egwina! How staunch and firm they be! If God so pleases to bestow peace upon us for a time, fortresses shall be reared, ships made, and the coasts defended; so that never again shall Norseman or foe of any kind ravage the country.”
They came to the gates, and there paused, singing their sweetest melodies. The warders listened and opened to them. Minstrels were held in such esteem that Saxon and Dane alike looked upon them as non-combatants, and admitted them freely to the halls of either side. So it happened that the king and the maiden were soon amusing the warriors within the camp.
They roared with merriment at the tricks of the minstrel, and listened entranced to the singing of Egwina.
“To Guthrum! To Guthrum they must go!” cried one of the crowd which surrounded them. “’Twill warm the heart of the king to hear them!”