t every point, burning houses and churches,
and killing people, especially the Christians. Though it was an almost
hopeless job, St. Edmund led his brave army forward, and whenever it was
possible he engaged the enemy in battles and drove them out. The Danes
had never before been so powerfully resisted, and thousands of them were
killed. There's not time now to tell you all of the thrilling adventures
St. Edmund had at this time, and of his wonderful escapes from the
Danes. Anyhow, the Danes were so much weakened that they asked for
peace, and after spending the winter in a great camp at Thetford, they
sailed away, full of rage and hatred and desire for revenge.

_A Cowardly Plot._

For a time there was peace, and then a sad thing happened.

One stormy day when the waves dashed and foamed up the shingly beach,
and the sea and sky were a leaden grey, the fisher-folk who lived down
by the shore saw a small boat, with tattered sails and broken mast,
being driven before the wind. There seemed to be a man in it, but he was
evidently weak and exhausted, and was doing nothing to help himself.
Presently the boat was thrown up on the shore, and the fishermen ran
down and collected in a little crowd round it. Looking down at the
helpless man, still clinging to a spar and drenched with foam and
sea-water, they soon saw he was not one of their people. "A Dane, a
Dane!" they murmured with sullen hate. Then one who had served in St.
Edmund's army suddenly gave a wild exclamation. "By Heaven," he said,
"it's Lothparch!" Lothparch was the leader of the Danish army who had
done such awful harm to East Anglia only a few years before. "Kill him!"
growled one man. "Throw him back on the mercy of the sea!" hissed
another. But the man who had fought under St. Edmund would have nothing
of the kind. The King never allowed a helpless man, even a cruel enemy,
to be killed. So Lothparch was carried up to the royal palace.

To the surprise of the fierce Angles, St. Edmund not only made the
stranger welcome, but showed him every kindness. "Love your enemies,"
said Our Lord, and sure enough St. Edmund seemed truly to be obeying
that command. Everything the King did seemed right to his loyal
subjects; but there was one man--Berne, the King's huntsman--whose
jealousy was so bitter at St. Edmund's showing favour to a Dane that he
waited till he had an opportunity, and then he murdered Lothparch.

The King was very angry, of course; but he said th