Historical Tales, Vol. 4 | Page 5

a wide region of the realm of Wessex, made
Gloucester his capital, and defied the feebly-supported English king.
It was midwinter now, a season which the Danes usually spent in rest
and revelry, and in which England gained some relief from their

devastating raids. Alfred, dreaming of aught but war, was at home with
his slender store of much-beloved books in his villa at Chippenham.
With him were a few of his thanes and a small body of armed
attendants, their enjoyment the pleasures of the chase and the rude
sports of that early period. Doubtless, what they deemed the womanish
or monkish tastes of their young monarch were objects of scorn and
ridicule to those hardy thanes, upon whom ignorance lay like a thick
garment. Yet Alfred could fight as well as read. They might disdain his
pursuits; they must respect his prowess.
While the king lay thus in ease at Chippenham, his enemies at
Gloucester seemed lost in enjoyment of their spoils. Guthrum had
divided the surrounding lands among his victorious followers, the
Saxons had been driven out, slain, or enslaved, and the brutal and
barbarous victors dwelt in peace and revelry on their new lands,
spending the winter in riot and wassail, and waiting for the spring-time
budding of the trees to renew the war with their Saxon foes.
[Illustration: AN ANGLO-SAXON KING.]
Not so with Guthrum. He had sworn revenge on the Saxons. Years
before, his father, a mighty chieftain, Ragnar by name, had fallen in a
raid on England. His sons had vowed to Odin to wash out the memory
of his death in English blood, and Guthrum now determined to take
advantage of the midwinter season for a sudden and victorious march
upon his unsuspecting enemy. If he could seize Alfred in his palace, the
war might be brought to an end, and England won, at a single blow.
If we can take ourselves back in fancy to New-Year's day of 878, and
to an open plain in the vicinity of Gloucester, we shall see there the
planted standard of Guthrum floating in the wind, while from every
side armed horsemen are riding into the surrounding space. They know
not why they come. A hasty summons has been sent them to meet their
chieftain here on this day, armed and mounted, and, loyal to their leader,
and ever ready for war, they ride hastily in, until the Danish champion
finds himself surrounded by a strong force of hardy warriors, eager to
learn the cause of this midwinter summons.

"It is war," said Guthrum to his chiefs. "I have sworn to have England,
and England shall be mine. The Saxons are scattered and at rest, not
dreaming of battle and blood. Now is our time. A hard and sudden
blow will end the war, and the fair isle of England will be the Raven's
spoil."
We may still hear in fancy the wild shouts of approval with which this
stirring declaration was heard. Visions of slaughter, plunder, and rich
domains filled the souls of chiefs and men alike, and their eagerness to
take to the field was such that they could barely wait to hear their
leader's plans.
"Alfred, the Saxon king, must be ours," said Guthrum. "He is the one
man I dread in all the Saxon hosts. They have many hands, but only
one head. Let us seize the head, and the hands are useless. Alfred is at
Chippenham. Thither let us ride at speed."
Their bands were mustered, their arms examined, and food for the
expedition prepared, and then to horse and away! Headlong over the
narrow and forest-bordered roads of that day rode the host of Danes, in
triumphant expectation of victory and spoil.
In his study sat Alfred, on the night of January 6, poring over an
illuminated page; or mayhap he was deep in learned consultation with
some monkish scholar, mayhap presiding at a feast of his thanes: we
may fancy what we will, for history or legend fails to tell us how he
was engaged on that critical evening of his life.
But we may imagine a wide-eyed Saxon sentinel, seared and hasty,
breaking upon the monarch's leisure with the wild alarm-cry,--
"Up and away, my king! The Danes are coming! hosts of them, armed
and horsed! Up and away!"
Hardly had he spoken before the hoof-beats of the advancing foe were
heard. On they came, extending their lines as they rode at headlong
speed, hoping to surround the villa and seize the king before the alarm
could be given.

They were too late. Alfred was quick to hear, to heed, and to act. Forest
bordered the villa; into the forest he dashed, his followers following in
tumultuous haste. The Danes made what haste the obstructions in their
way permitted. In