Under Æthelwulf, Alfred’s father, Winchester had become the chief city of England; for while the other kingdoms went down before the Northern pirates, Wessex still stood its ground. It was farther off from the main points of attack, and had the incalculable advantage of a succession of capable kings: Egbert, Æthelwulf, and—at the time of our story—Alfred.
As the Danish invasion pressed more and more, Wessex grew to be the champion of all the other kingdoms of England. For the ruin of the north made it the sole remaining home of the civilized life of the land. Happily for Wessex and for England, the greatest of English kings succeeded to the throne at the most critical moment.
The six years that Alfred had sat upon the throne had been troubled and restless. During the first year, nine pitched battles were fought with the Danes. Then Alfred was forced to pay to the Northmen money for peace, for the invaders occupied all of Northumbria, Mercia, and East Anglia, and the West Saxons, deeming the struggle hopeless, and fearful of being brought under their rule, responded no longer to the call to battle.
For a short time Wessex was left undisturbed. During this interval the indefatigable Alfred builded ships and met the pirates upon the sea, defeating them on their own element. In 876 the peace was broken with that facility which characterized the breaking of Danish oaths, and it was not until the beginning of the year 877, the time of our story, that peace was again restored.
In that forest, before spoken of, just beyond a circular chalk down later called St. Catherine’s hill—where the valley was at the narrowest and the downs sloped gently to the little river of Ichen, stood Winchester. In the time of the Roman, a main thoroughfare, still the High Street of the city, bisected it from East Gate to West Gate. At right angles with that street ran a main intersecting road from South Gate to North Gate. The West Saxon kings did but follow the lead of the Roman in retaining this division of the town, and, up the rising ground towards the west on either side of the ancient Roman road from the eastward gate, the houses of the citizens were clustered into a street; with here and there a stone-built dwelling, and the rest of “wattle and dab” construction. In the southeastern part of the town stood the minster of St. Swithen strongly inclosed, and protected on the north by the river and marsh lands. Near this convent stood the royal vill, from which place emanated all those plans against the encroachments of the Danes, the school of justice and learning, and the bulwark of England’s defense. Near the palace were the dwellings of the bishop and his clergy; the residence of the wicgerefa, which was near the site of the courts of justice, and in the centre of the town was the market with its cross.
The day after the one on which the events narrated in the last chapter had taken place, a busy scene was presented in the market. Merchandise of all sorts was exposed for sale. Stalwart Saxons, called reeves, with the badge of the king’s authority upon them, had charge of the steelyards, yard measures, and bushels, and were kept busy weighing and measuring that each might receive his just due, and the sale be legal according to the doom of the land. It was the endeavor on the part of the authorities to confine all bargaining as much as possible to towns and walled places, so that the people might be assured of fair dealing, and a warranty of what the Saxon laws called unlying witnesses.
Yet not all the citizens were occupied in trade, nor was all the market given up to traffic. On one side, quite away from the stalls, two circular spaces were set apart; one for bear, the other for bull baiting. Closer to the stalls, yet not so near as to detract from the business of the mart, some gleemen were exercising their art. One dexterous juggler threw three knives and three balls alternately in the air, catching them one by one as they fell.
Another, a short distance from the juggler, was gravely leading a great bear to dance on its hind legs, while his coadjutor kept time on the flageolet. Around each of these amusements was gathered the crowd that in every clime or age such things attract.
The merriment was at its height when from the upper end of the market appeared two figures that quietly stationed themselves near one of the stalls. It was Egwina and her grandfather. During a momentary lull the old gleeman struck his harp, and together he and his grandchild lifted up their voices in song.
The excellence of the music, for Wulfhere was a skillful harper, the sweetness of the song, and above all the wonderful beauty of the maiden, drew all eyes in that direction. There was a murmur of approval, and the crowd surged toward them, and gathered round the two, leaving the coarser attractions of baiting and juggling for the more refined ones of melody and beauty.