em an earnest
farewell.

They were both clad in light defensive armour, such as could be worn
on a rapid journey, and armed with sword and battle-axe. Their own
steeds, two of the finest horses England could produce, famous for
speed and bottom, awaited them at the gate. Edmund criticised their
condition with a jealous eye, and then expressed approval.

"Farewell, Englishmen of the loyal and true city! Until we meet in
happier times, farewell! You will know how to guard hearths and homes.
Till we return to aid you, farewell!"

And, striking spurs into his steed, he and Alfgar rode across the
Fleet river, and, ascending the rising ground, pursued their course
along the Strand.

"We shall have a moonlight ride," said the king. "Look, Alfgar, 'tis
nearly full."

"My Lord, do you see those dark spots on the river near Thorney Isle?"

"Ah! I see them, and recognise the cutthroats. They are the Danes, who
are bent on surrounding the city. Had I my five hundred, I would soon
give some account of that detachment."

"But now, my Lord, had we not better strike into the northern road at
once, before they see us? We are but two."

"No; I should like to see them a little closer, and then across the
heath for Windsor. They must have fleet steeds that catch us."

So they persevered until they had attained a rising ground from which
they perceived the whole force, nearly a thousand strong, of whom one
half had crossed the stream. But the figures of our two adventurers,
outlined on the hill, were too distinct to elude their observation,
and a dozen dark horsemen rode after them at full gallop.

"Now for a brisk ride," said Edmund; and the two dashed wildly onward,
clearing ditch or hedge until they attained the rising ground
afterwards known as Hounslow Heath, still followed by their pursuers.

Here Edmund paused and looked round. The speed at which they rode had
separated their pursuers, as he had expected, and one was far the
foremost.

"Stand by, Alfgar," he said; "two to one is not fair. I thirst for the
blood of this accursed Dane."

Alfgar knew that he must not dispute the royal will, although he
thought the risk of delay very perilous, with a crowd of foes upon
their track. While he waited up came the Dane, powerfully mounted,
swinging his heavy battle-axe. He swooped upon Edmund, who caused his
horse to start aside, avoided the stroke, and then, guiding his horse
by his knees, and raising his axe in both hands,