ink the red wine,
The Sea King sang in his might;
For it maddens the brain, it gives strength to the arm,
And kindles the soul in the fight."

Now he was on the outer side of the door, and he shut it, and then
locked it and tossed the key into the snow.

But which way was he to go? He could not make out the locality, but it
was evident that the hill rose above him, and he knew that from its
summit he could discern the bearings of places, so he resolved to
ascend.

It was now about nine at night, an hour when our ancestors generally
retired to rest. All Alfgar's desire and hope--O how joyful a
hope!--was to see from the hill the bearings of Clifton, and to
descend, with all the speed in his power, towards it. He might arrive
before they had retired to rest. So he ran eagerly forward. The moon
was bright, and the snow reflected so much light that locomotion was
easy.

And now he became conscious that there was a strange gleam along the
snow on his left hand--a strange red gleam, which grew stronger and
stronger as he advanced. It seemed above and below--to redden the
skies, the frozen treetops with their glittering snow wreaths, and the
smooth surface beneath alike.

Redder and redder as he ascended, until he suddenly emerged upon the
open hill. Before him were earthworks, which had been thrown up in
olden wars, before Englishman or Dane had trodden these coasts. He
scrambled into a deep hollow filled with snow, then out again, and up
to the summit, when he saw the cause of the illumination.

Before him the whole country to the southeast seemed in flames.
Village after village gave forth its baleful light; and even while he
gazed the fiery flood burst forth in spots hitherto dark. He stood as
one transfixed, until the wind brought with it a strange and fearful
cry, as if the exultation of fiends were mingled with the despairing
cry of perishing human beings.

He knew whence it came by the red light slowly stealing beyond the
next hill, and the fiery tongues of flame which rose heavenward,
although the houses were hidden by the ground.

It was from Wallingford, a town three miles below Dorchester. He knew,
too, where he was himself; and the one impulse which rushed upon him
was to hasten to Clifton, where he trusted he might find Edmund, or,
at least, hear of him in this dread emergency. He saw the village
lying beneath in the distance, and turned to rush downward, entering
the wood in a different direction.