“Hardly,” spake one who was a man about his own age. “Those who lived near the coasts have crossed into Gaul or other countries for the succour which they obtained not in their own land. Others seek by submission to mitigate the ferocity of the pagans. Others still, seek to retain part of their property by the sacrifice of a portion. Others again, seek refuge and safety in the recesses of the forest. All groan under the rule of the oppressors, and none there be to oppose them sith the king is gone.”
“None?” shouted the youth Ethelred, springing to his feet. “None, sayest thou? None! Nay; here is one!”
“And here is another,” and another Saxon flashed his sword in the air.
“And another!” “And another!” shouted each and every one of the party, until all were on their feet.
“Let us seek the king, and form an army!” shouted Ethelred. “Then, with him as leader, will the Northman make food for the raven. Drink hael to the death of the Dane.”
All drank. Another cried:
“Drink hael to the king!” “Drink hael to the king!” All drank but Wilfred.
“Marry, man! Drinkest thou not to the king?” cried Ethelred in wrath. “Drink to the king, else thou shalt answer to me.”
But Wilfred touched not the mead.
“Drink,” shouted all together as their swords flashed in the air. “Drink or defend thyself.”