Siegbert left hastily, and soon returned with the physician, who examined the king carefully.
“It needeth blood-letting,” said he, sagely, “but unlucky is the day, and mickle would be the result should I use the vein knife.”
The king smiled faintly.
“No blood dost thou need to let, good leech,” he said. “The affliction is one to which time hath accustomed me, and naught do I need now but repose, since the sharpness of the attack hath passed.”
“Then,” said the leech, unwilling to let slip an opportunity to press his service upon the king, “I will leave thee this decoction, and to-morrow will we see about the blood-letting. Then, too, shalt thou be removed to abode more befitting thee.”
To all of his entreaties the next day to allow him to remove him to his own dwelling, Alfred turned a deaf ear; nor would he permit Siegbert to inform his own family of his whereabouts.
“’Twill be but a few days until the misease will have left me,” he said. “Until then I will stay with thee, little one, if thou wilt let me.”
“Gladly, my king,” returned the maiden, with shining eyes. “If thou canst abide in our poor dwelling, thou art as welcome as the sunbeam.”
Tenderly did Alfred smile at her.
“Egwina,” said he gently, when the leech had gone, “tell me of this young man. Art thou wed to him, and is that why thou wouldst not exchange the true-lofa with Edward?”