Denewulf and Adiva both laughed long and loud.
“The king!” cried the swineherd when he could check his merriment. “The king? Quotha! I should like well to see the king in the hut of a swineherd. I must tell that to the others to-morrow.” Again he gave vent to a peal of laughter.
“Out upon thee, man! Seest thou not that thou dost tease the maiden?” chid the wife.
“Nay; I wonder not at his mirth,” said the maiden gently. “’Twould be a rare sight, I wot, if the king would dwell here; yet I would that he were here. I like not to think of him slain or in the hands of the Dane. My grandfather said the land depended upon Alfred.”
“It may be,” returned Denewulf. “Come Saxon or Dane, it matters not here. But I would also that the king were here, for I would see him. Never have I seen a king. Hast thou?”
“Once,” said Egwina, “when I was seven, grandfather and I were in Sherborne when King Ethelred passed through. Methought that he was handsome and noble in appearance, but granther said that I was too young to know much about it, that the atheling, Alfred, was handsomer by far and that the land would be better when he was king; not only for his talents, but also because our holy father, the pope, had crowned him king in Rome.”
“Well! Drink hael to the king’s coming,” and the swineherd tossed off another horn of mead.
At this moment footsteps were heard outside, the hound arose from his place before the fire with a low growl. There came a loud knock at the door.
“Who goes there?” cried the Saxon striding to the entrance, fitting an arrow to his bow as he did so.
“A wanderer in search of food and shelter. Open as ye be Saxons.”