I had not thought of that, but it was a thing that was common enough.  Harald Fairhair was wont to give a rich wife to some chief whom he would keep at his side.

“If that is so, I shall go hence,” I said.  “There are things that come before friendship.”

“Well,” he answered, “we shall see.  There is always a place for us both at Rolf’s side in his new-won land.”

“Yet I should be loth to leave Alfred,” I said most truly.  “I think that this is the only thing that would make me do so.”

“Thora would not stand in your way to honour with him, nor would I,” said Osmund.

“Honour with Alfred shall not stand in my way, rather,” I answered.  “But we speak of chances, as I think.”

We said no more, and he bade me farewell.

I went back to Alfred somewhat sad, and yet with many thoughts that were good and full of hope; and soon I had little time to do aught but look on at the way in which the king’s plans worked out most wonderfully.

On the eve of the great Whitsunday festival we set out through the fen paths southward to the hills and the first woodlands of Selwood Forest, and when the morning came we were far in its depths, passing eastward towards the place where we were to meet the levy.

Presently we turned aside to a little woodland chapel that had escaped the sight of the Danes, and from a hut beside it came out an old priest, white-bearded and bent with age and scanty fare.  At first he feared that the heathen had found him at last; yet he looked bravely at us, catching up the crucifix that hung at his side and clasping it in both his hands as he stood in the open doorway of his church, as if to stay us from it.

Alfred rode forward to him when he saw his fear.

“Father, I am Alfred the king,” he said.  “Far have I ridden on this holy day.  Now I would fain hear mass and have your blessing before we go on.”

Thereat the old priest gave thanks openly to the King of kings, who had brought Alfred again into the land, and hastened to make ready.  So that was the king’s Whitsuntide mass, and we three heathen and our few men must bide outside while the others went into the holy place and returned with bright faces and happy; for this was a service to which we might not be admitted, though all knew that we would be Christians indeed ere long.

So at last we came to the ancient castle, and saw the valley to north and east beneath its height, bright everywhere with sparkling arms that gleamed from lane and field and forest glade, as all Wessex gathered to meet their king.

Then the Golden Dragon that we had lost and won was unfurled; and the war horns blew bravely enough to wake the mighty dead whose mounds were round about us; and soon the hillside was full of men who crowded upwards and filled the camp and ramparts and fosse, so that before sunset Alfred had a host that any king might he proud to call his own.  Yet he would call it not Alfred’s force, but England’s.