fleet were
with it.

They had appeared in the Bristol Channel in this autumn of 877, and had
ruthlessly slaughtered and spoiled the people of South Wales. Here they
propose to winter; but, as the country is wild mountain for the most
part, and the people very poor, they will remain no longer than they can
help. Already a large part of the army about Gloster are getting
restless. The story of their march from Devonshire, through rich
districts of Wessex yet unplundered, goes round among the new-comers.
Guthrum has no power, probably no will, to keep them to their oaths. In
the early winter a joint attack is planned by him and Hubba on the West
Saxon territory. By Christmas they are strong enough to take the field,
and so in midwinter, shortly after Twelfth Night, the camp at Gloster
breaks up, and the army "stole away to Chippenham," recrossing the Avon
once more into Wessex, under Guthrum. The fleet, after a short delay,
crosses to the Devonshire coast, under Hubba, in thirty war-ships.

And now at last the courage of the West Saxons gives way. The surprise
is complete. Wiltshire is at the mercy of the pagans, who, occupying the
royal burgh of Chippenham as headquarters, overrun the whole district,
drive many of the inhabitants "beyond the sea for want of the
necessaries of life," and reduce to subjection all those that remain.
Alfred is at his post, but for the moment can make no head against them.
His own strong heart and trust in God are left him, and with them and a
scanty band of followers he disappears into the forest of Selwood, which
then stretched away from the confines of Wiltshire for thirty miles to
the west. East Somerset, now one of the fairest and richest of English
counties, was then for the most part thick wood and tangled swamp, but
miserable as the lodging is it is welcome for the time to the King. In
the first months of 878 Selwood Forest holds in its recesses the hope of
England.

It is at this point, as is natural enough, that romance has been most
busy, and it has become impossible to disentangle the actual facts from
monkish legend and Saxon ballad. In happier times Alfred was in the
habit himself of talking over the events of his wandering life
pleasantly with his courtiers, and there is no reason to doubt that the
foundation of most of the stories still current rests on those
conversations of the truth-loving King, noted down by Bishop Asser and
others.

The best known of these is, of cou