Now, when I thought how the wind had held at any quarter rather than north or east for long weeks, it seemed to me likely that it was this only that had kept them from us, and that the going into Humber was no part of Ingvar’s plan, but done as of necessity.  For to bring over so mighty a host he must have swept up every vessel of all kinds for many a score miles along the shores.  And they would be heavy laden with men, so that he must needs make the first port possible.  Yet for a time we should be left in quiet.

Now I must say how things went at home, for my sister’s wedding with Egfrid had been put off first by the doubt of my own fate, and then by the mourning for my father’s death.  Yet the joy of my return had brought fresh plans for it, and now the new house at Hoxne was nearly ready; so that both Egfrid and his folk were anxious that there should be no more delay.

I, too, when the coming of the Danes seemed a thing that might be any day, thought it well that Eadgyth should rather be inland at Hoxne, whence flight southward could be made in good time, than at Reedham, where the first landing might well be looked for.  But when the fear passed for a while by reason of the news from Northumbria, the time was fixed for the end of November, just before the Advent season, and not earlier, because of the time of mourning.

So the summer wore through slowly to me, for I was sad at heart, having lost so much.  And ever from beyond the Wash and from Mercia came news of Ingvar’s host.  The Northumbrian king was slain, and a Dane set in his place; and Burhred of Mercia bowed to the Danes, and owned them for lords; and at last Ethelred of Wessex came to himself and sent levies to meet the host, but too late, for Mercia was lost to him.  Yet Eadmund our king, and even Ulfkytel, deemed that we were safe as ever behind our fenland barrier, fearing naught so long as no landing was made from across the Wash.

Yet when November came in, and at Egfrid’s house all was bustle and preparation, we heard that Bardney was burnt, and Swineshead, and then Medehamstede {xx}.  And the peril was close on us, and but just across our border.

“No matter,” said men to one another.  “It will be a hard thing for Danes to cross the great fens to come hither.  They will turn aside into Mercia’s very heart, and then the Wessex folk will rise.”

But I feared, and two days before the wedding went to Harleston, where the king was, and urged him to have forces along the great wall we call Woden’s Dyke even yet.

“Let us see your wedding first, Wulfric,” he said.  “Eadgyth would be sorely grieved if I were not there.”

For he lay at Harleston to be near at hand, as the wedding was to be from the house of Egfrid’s father, because Reedham seemed as yet a house of sorrow.  And I was glad when the Thane asked that it should take place at Hoxne, and it was safer also.

Surely never moved host so swiftly as Ingvar’s, for even as I went, heavily enough, from Eadmund’s presence, a man spurred into the town saying that Earl Ulfkytel faced the Danes with a fair levy gathered in haste, between us and Wisbech.  They had crossed the fens where no man dreamed that they might come, and were upon us as if from the skies.