In his study sat Alfred, on the night of January 6, poring over an
illuminated page; or mayhap he was deep in learned consultation with
some monkish scholar, mayhap presiding at a feast of his thanes: we may
fancy what we will, for history or legend fails to tell us how he was
engaged on that critical evening of his life.
But we may imagine a wide-eyed Saxon sentinel, seared and hasty,
breaking upon the monarch's leisure with the wild alarm-cry,--
"Up and away, my king! The Danes are coming! hosts of them, armed and
horsed! Up and away!"
Hardly had he spoken before the hoof-beats of the advancing foe were
heard. On they came, extending their lines as they rode at headlong
speed, hoping to surround the villa and seize the king before the alarm
could be given.
They were too late. Alfred was quick to hear, to heed, and to act.
Forest bordered the villa; into the forest he dashed, his followers
following in tumultuous haste. The Danes made what haste the
obstructions in their way permitted. In a few minutes they had swept
round the villa, with ringing shouts of triumph. In a few minutes more
they were treading its deserted halls, Guthrum at their head, furious to
find that his hoped-for prey had vanished and left him but the empty
shell of his late home.
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