g ended, Elfwyn rose to go out, and his example was
followed by Alfgar and Bertric, and several of the serfs, who from the
lower end of the ample board had heard with much alarm the previous
conversation.

Ascending the hill, they directed their steps towards the highest
point, where an old watchtower had once been reared, composed of
timber, and overlooking the forest.

From the summit the party gazed over three or four counties lying
dimly beneath them in the still moonlight.

The mist, slowly rising from the river and forest, partially obscured
the immediate view, and hid the valley beneath in smoke-like wreaths;
but the distant hills rose above. There three large fires immediately
caught the eye, and confirmed the apprehensions. One was on the summit
of the range culminating on the spot now known as Edgehill, lying
about ten miles south; but on the west Malvern Heights had caught the
flame, and on the far north the Leicestershire hills sent forth their
reddening fire in more than one spot.

"The country has taken the alarm," said the Thane.

"What must we do, father?"

"Summon and arm all our vassals, and await the sheriff's orders; the
king will communicate to us through him. We know not yet where the
danger is."

"Perhaps it is only a false alarm," said Bertric.

"God grant it; but I dare not hope as much."

Alfgar was very silent. Well he might be. The enemy dreaded was his
own kith and kin; and although all his sympathies were with his
English friends, from whom he had received more kindness and love than
he had ever known elsewhere, yet he seemed to feel compromised by the
deeds of his kindred, whose savage cruelty no Christianity had as yet
softened.

While they yet remained on the hill, fire after fire took up the tale
and reddened the horizon, until a score of those baleful bonfires were
in sight. Sighing deeply, Elfwyn led the way down the hill.

"What have you seen?" was the inquiry of the Lady Hilda.

"The hills flame with beacons."

"Alas for poor Wessex!"

"Alas for England! I have a foreboding that we shall not always be
exempt from the woes which affect our neighbours. Wessex scarcely
tempts the plunderer now; neither does East Anglia. Northumbria is
half Danish, and kites do not peck out kites' eyes. No; on Mercia,
poor Mercia, the blow must sooner or later fall."

"And how to avert it?"

"There is but one way; we must fight the foe in Wessex. Now we must
rest, to rise early, an