that was mortal of
poor Bertric was left, to be, so far as the Danes cared, the prey of
the wolf or the kite; but the young Dane knew well that, if any were
yet alive at Aescendune, the hallowed temple of the martyr would not
want its due honour.

All his heart was with his English friends; he felt that in going to
the Danish camp he was really going to his death, for although within
a few years the conversion of the Northmen took place, yet at this
period their hatred of Christianity was simply ferocious, and his
father belonged to the old heathen conservatives of his day, as did
all his kinsfolk.

"O Aescendune, once happy Aescendune!" was the thought, the bitter
thought, as each hour placed a larger barrier of space between Alfgar
and his late home; all its happy memories came freshly back upon him,
and particularly the thought of Ethelgiva, his betrothed, from whom he
was so ruthlessly torn, torn as if he left part of himself behind.

They reached the confines of the forest by daybreak. Before them
stretched an open country, where wild heaths alternated with
cornfields, and wooded hills were of frequent occurrence upon the
landscape.

All at once a signal of caution was given, and the whole party retired
again within the cover of the wood, where they could see, for they
were on an eminence, the whole district before them without being
seen.

A body of fifty English soldiers was passing on the road, which lay at
the distance of a few hundred yards only, travelling at a considerable
speed, as if they anticipated the emergency of Aescendune, and hurried
to the rescue. Alfgar knew them at once; they were Elfwyn and his
troops; oh, if they had but arrived earlier, thought he, and started
to see how completely English his sympathies were.

The Danes found it hard to repress their laughter at the thought of
the reception which awaited the travellers at home; they had no idea
of spoiling it by attacking them, although the numbers were about
equal; besides, they had got all the plunder and spoil, and a battle
would only endanger the success already obtained. So they lay in cover
until the last straggler had disappeared in the direction of
Aescendune, and then continued their course, with many a jest at the
expense of the English.

Anlaf watched his son; he knew what his feelings were, and his
thoughts were bitter as he felt that, could Alfgar have been
consulted, he would be in that English band.

That night they