“No, granther. The maiden was carried from my side when the shout went up that the Danes were coming. Alack! where can they be?”
“I wot not,” answered Wulfhere moodily. “I fear, child, that this is the end. None know whether Alfred be fallen or taken prisoner. If either be true naught is left for us but loss of life or slavery.”
With the morning the people scattered into the different villages in search of rest and sustenance. Wulfhere and Egwina did likewise. As they were resting in the thatched cottage of a ceorl, there came through the village one riding hotly on a palfrey. He bore an arrow in one hand and a naked sword in the other. When he reached the centre of the hamlet he stopped and called in a loud voice:
“What, ho, Saxons! Listen to the words of the king. Alfred would have aid against the Dane. Let every man that is not niddering, whether in a town or out of a town, leave his house and come.”
Never before had the old national proclamation, which no Saxon capable of bearing arms had ever resisted, been published to such deaf ears. Wulfhere sprang up with a shout: “God be praised! The king lives!”
But the mass of the people responded not but murmured among themselves that resistance was useless. If they submitted, they would be allowed to till the soil, and to live in their homes even as their brethren in Mercia and East Anglia were doing; while opposition meant death, loss of homes and loved ones.
So the message fell upon deaf ears, and the messenger swept on to other villages with the summons. Wulfhere’s shout met no answering one of gladness. The old man sat down amazed and despairing.
“What hath become of the spirit of the Saxons?” he asked fiercely. “Now shall we be conquered by the Dane, even as our forefathers conquered the Britons. The Saxons serfs? Out, I say! To what have the descendents of Woden fallen that they should submit without a blow to the pagan?”
“Friend,” spoke a ceorl near by, “have a care to thy words. The land hath been ravaged by the invader for years. No rest can be obtained either by resistance or by gifts and money. We are weary of strife. Serfdom and life are better than freedom and death. Marry, let us have peace!”
“Come, Egwina,” and Wulfhere rose, his form dilated, his lip curled with scorn. “Theowes already be these men. I would be no more among them. Come!”