“Well and wisely hast thou spoken,” declared the king. “If the Saxons will rally round my standard as of yore, the Dragon will sweep the Raven from the land. But there should be some place of meeting—some spot to become ready.”
“My king,” spoke Denewulf, “if I may be so bold as to suggest something. Not far from here, at the meeting of the Thone and the Parret, there lies an island surrounded by morasses. A whole army might lie concealed in its fens and none be the wiser.”
“Denewulf, thou, too, art wise, and hast spoken well. To-morrow will we wend to this island, and see it for ourselves.”
Long into the night did the little band confer. Bright and early the next morning the whole party traversed the woods until they came to the island spoken of by Denewulf.
On the eastern boundary of the forest, on rising ground, was the isle, surrounded by dangerous marshes formed by the little rivers, Thone and Parret. The marshes were not fordable, but Denewulf brought from the rushes a little coracle, capable of bearing four, and soon the entire party stood on the island itself and examined it.
It contained about two acres covered with vast brakes of alder bush filled with deer and other game.
“The marshes are fordable only in summer, my king,” said Denewulf, “and then only by those who know the secret.”
“’Tis an ideal place for a fortress,” returned Alfred, his keen eye taking in every detail. “Athelney will I call it. See, Denewulf, here will I build my fort. Then when the spring hath set in truly, will we sally forth.”
Thus planning, the party returned to the cottage, and then with hearty farewells the Saxons started off to tell the glad news to those who were trustworthy.
During the days of waiting, matters at the hut went on as before. The lessons were resumed, and, though Adiva did not soon recover from her awe in the presence of the king, Egwina regarded him with a loving reverence.