“I’d hear thy harp again,” said he, “but sing of Saxon and Dane. Canst give us a song of victory of Dane over Saxon?”
Then the heart of the maiden swelled within her as she thought of that dear grandfather who had given his life because he would not so sing, and her soul grew strong and she spake boldly:
“I am a Saxon, Jarl Hakon, and niddering would I be to sing of my country’s shame. Willing am I to make glee for thee if aught in my harp or voice doth please thee. Many are the skalds that can sing for thee thy countrymen’s victories. Gracious hath been thy gift; gracious thy present to the skald maiden; but take it back and ask not this thing of her.”
“Keep thy bauble,” and the jarl thrust it back upon her. “Would that our maidens would prove so true to their land. Sing not so, maiden, if thou dost not wish, but something Saxon. One that is true to his own land never bewrays another.”
The Danes watched the affair in surprise. Jarl Hakon was an austere man, and never had he been known before to countenance the least crossing of his wishes. Egwina thanked him gratefully, and then, as he desired, swept the strings and sang. She chose the song of The Phœnix, a subject very popular with the Saxon poets; the mystic life, death, and resurrection of the fabled bird.
Her thoughts flew to the little hut in the woods where the king of the Saxons lay concealed. Should he, like the phœnix, rise above the funeral pyre of the dead hopes of his people, and again rule the land as king? A quaver crept into her voice, and then, as she recalled his words, “The earth, when conquered, give us the stars,” hope swelled her bosom. No matter the difficulties, the dangers that beset his path, Alfred would reign again. God’s chosen king was he, anointed by the holy pope himself. Her voice burst into the triumphant refrain as the assurance came home to her.[1]
“Lo, from the airy web,
Blooming and brightsome,
Young and exulting, the
Phoenix breaks forth.
“Round him the birds troop
Singing and hailing;
Wings of all glories
Engarland the king.
“Hymning and hailing,
Through forest and sun-air,
Hymning and hailing
And speaking him ‘king.’
“Hymning and hailing,
And filling the sun-air
With music and glory
And praise of the king.”
Silence fell upon the retainers as they listened. The seid woman’s eyes glittered strangely.
”Well hast thou done, child,” and Hakon took from his arm a massive bracelet.
“Thou hast already given me sufficient,” said Egwina, modestly refusing the gift.