ll be lord of the land. I admire that
man; he is more than a barbarian, he knows the art of war. He shall
learn yet that Alfred is his match. We must part."

"Part?" said the thanes, looking at him in doubt. "Wherefore?"

"I must seek safety alone and in disguise. There are not enough of you
to help me; there are enough to betray me to suspicion. Go your ways,
good friends. Save yourselves. We will meet again before many weeks to
strike a blow for our country. But the time is not yet."

History speaks not from the depths of that woodland whither Alfred had
fled with his thanes. We cannot say if just these words were spoken, but
such was the purport of their discourse. They separated, the thanes and
their followers to seek their homes; Alfred, disguised as a peasant, to
thread field and forest on foot towards a place of retreat which he had
fixed upon in his mind. Not even to the faithfulest of his thanes did he
tell the secret of his abode. For the present it must be known to none
but himself.

Meanwhile, the cavalry of Guthrum were raiding the country far and wide.
Alfred had escaped, but England lay helpless in their grasp. News
travelled slowly in those days. Everywhere the Saxons first learned of
the war by hearing the battle-cry of the Danes. The land was overrun.
England seemed lost. Its only hope of safety lay in a man who would not
acknowledge defeat, a monarch who could bide his time.

The lonely journey of the king led him to the centre of Somersetshire.
Here, at the confluence of the Tone and the Parret, was a small island,
afterwards known as Ethelingay, or Prince's Island. Around it spread a
wide morass, little likely to be crossed by his pursuers. Here, still
disguised, the fugitive king sought a refuge from his foes.

For several months Alfred remained in this retreat, his place of refuge
during part of the time being in the hut of a swineherd; and thereupon
hangs a tale. Whether or not the worthy herdsman knew his king,
certainly the weighty secret was not known to his wife. One day, while
Alfred sat by the fire, his hands busy with his bow and arrows, his head
mayhap busy with plans against the Danes, the good woman of the house
was engaged in baking cakes on the hearth.

Having to leave the hut for a few minutes, she turned to her guest, and
curtly bade him watch the cakes, to see that they did not get overdone.

"Trust me for that," he said.

She left the room. The cakes smoked on the hearth,