“Wilt never forget thy foster mother’s superstitions, man? Marry, thou art more Dane than Saxon now! What would the priest say to thy heathenism?”
“Be not wroth, Adiva,” laughed Denewulf. “Thou wottest that at heart I am as good a Christian as thyself. I trow the Dane would think so.”
“Well-a-day, have done with thy witless talk and go on with thy tale,” cried the wife impatiently.
“Whether she were Jamvid or no,” went on the swineherd, “we set upon the brutes with our clubs, and such as did not take to their heels are left out under the tree. Then the maiden descended, and we found that she was not the hag of the Iron Wood, but a Saxon girl fleeing from the Dane.”
“From the Dane?” ejaculated the dame. “Poor lamb! would the Dane bother such as ye? Tell me of it.”
Thus adjured, Egwina in turn told her story, beginning with the desire of herself and grandfather to place themselves under the protection of Alfred, and continuing until the time that Denewulf had found her in the tree playing to the wolves.
“Dear heart!” burst from the motherly woman hurrying round to the girl. “I’ll warrant thou art tired and spent. To think of a girl going through all that! But thou art safe here.”
“Why, will not the Danes come here?” queried Egwina in amaze.
“They cannot, child. None but Saxons can penetrate into these wolds and fens,” spoke up the swineherd quickly. “And not even Saxons if they be not accustomed to it. I and others of my kind can go through the fastnesses as easily as thou canst follow a path; because we wot of them, but the Northmen would become weary and wander aimlessly about, unwitting whither to go until they would perish in the forest.”
“It glads my heart to hear it,” breathed the maiden. “I want no more to see them. They are so fearful! None do they spare, neither youth nor age. I would, oh, I would that the king were here. Then would he be safe from them.”