_Queen._ Yes, you may take the precious volume, Alfred, for I know you will not injure it, and I hope you will soon learn how to make its wisdom your own.
_Alfred._ Thank you, lady mother. I shall study the book and learn to read, for I wish to know all about the brave knights of Arthur"s court.
SCENE II.--_Years later, when Alfred is King_
KING ALFRED, OSCAR THE EARL, ODULPH, THE EARL"S SON
_Alfred._ All the others have gone back to their homes. In no other way can ye serve me. Wherefore do ye go about to weep and break my heart?
_Oscar._ We weep, royal Alfred, because thou hast forbidden us to share thy fortunes; as if we were the swarm of summer flies, who follow only while the sun shineth.
_Alfred._ My valiant Oscar, and you my faithful Odulph, listen to me. I do not despair. The time is not ripe now for further war. Our foes the Danes have conquered us for a time. I trust that the time will come when we shall drive them from our land. But we must do that which seems best for the present and seek to be more successful in the future. We must not sit down and weep; no, this rather shall you do. Go back to your own people and keep me in their memory. When the Dane rules most cruelly, then rise up and cry aloud in the ears of the people, "Alfred the king yet liveth!" Then gather the soldiers and I shall come to lead them to victory.
_Oscar._ Thou shalt be obeyed, my royal lord. I will return to my men and do as thou hast said. But let my son Odulph stay with thee, if only as thy servant.
_Odulph._ Well will I serve thee, my royal lord. It is not well for the king to fare alone.
_Alfred._ I am well content to serve myself, or even to be servant to others, until a happier time shall come. If Odulph desires to serve me, it shall be by bringing good tidings of your success with my people.
When the time comes that we may again fight for our country, let him bring me the welcome message. Then we will free our country from the Danish yoke.
_Oscar._ Farewell, my royal master, since thou wilt have it so.
_Odulph._ And may the time soon come when I shall bring the message to thee!
_Alfred._ Farewell, my loyal friends. All will be well.
SCENE III.--_In the Peasant"s Home_
KING ALFRED, PEASANT CUDRED, WIFE SWITHA
_Alfred._ Save you, good father! May a Saxon stranger, whom the Danish robbers have made homeless, share a lodging with thy master"s cattle for the night?
_Cudred._ Wilt thou swear to me that thou art not a Dane in disguise?
_Alfred._ I say to thee, my friend, I am no Dane, but a true Saxon.
_Cudred._ Then thou shalt share the calf"s crib to-night. Perchance thou art hungry, too?
_Alfred._ To say truth, father, I have not broken my fast to-day; neither have I had aught to drink save from these marshy streams. I shall be right thankful for some food, even a crust of coa.r.s.est rye bread.
_Cudred._ Rye bread, forsooth! Thou talkest of dainties indeed! Thou wilt get nothing better than flat oaten cakes here.
_Alfred._ I have always wished to taste an oaten cake.
_Cudred._ Follow me, then, and thou shalt have thy desire. Switha, Switha!
_Switha._ Well, I hear thee!
_Cudred._ Switha, I have brought thee home a guest who will be glad to partake of our supper.
_Switha._ A guest! And thinkest thou I"ve naught better to do than broil fish and bake cakes for all the vagabonds who roam the land?
_Cudred._ Patience, good Switha. I have not asked thee to cook for a vagabond. This is an honest Saxon whom it will be charity to feed and shelter for the night.
_Switha._ Let me hold the torch and see this Saxon guest. Thou lookest like a guest of fashion, sorry fellow!
_Cudred._ Cease thy scolding talk, woman! I see by this light that our guest hath not been used to beg for charity from such as thou. Why be so hard of heart and by thy rude taunts make bitter the food he must receive from our hands?
_Switha._ I have heard that charity begins at home, and I am sure we are poor enough.
_Cudred._ Not poor enough to refuse food to the hungry, such as it is.
Here is fish, and here an oaten cake which you wish to taste.
_Alfred._ Thanks for your goodness, kind host. Indeed, I am hungry.
_Switha._ You eat like a hungry wolf.
_Alfred._ And now I am hungry no longer. I thank you both for a good supper, and I hope you will never be sorry you have given charity to a stranger. Now, Cudred, I shall be glad to sleep.
_Cudred._ This way, then, to the bed of straw. Now, tell me truly, art thou not some mighty earl in disguise?
_Alfred._ I am Alfred, thy king--I know from thy goodness to me when thou thoughtest me a beggar that thou art a good man, therefore I confide in thee. I know thou wilt not betray thy king.
_Cudred._ Not all the gold of Denmark should tempt me to commit so base a crime, but we must not let Switha know who thou art, my royal master.
_Alfred._ I shall be careful. Soon, I hope, my friends will bring me word that my army awaits me, when I shall again try to set my country free.
SCENE IV.--_In the Peasant"s Hut_
KING ALFRED, SWITHA
_King Alfred._ It rains so hard to-day that I cannot hunt, so will mend my bow and make some new arrows. May I sit by your fire, good dame Switha?
_Switha._ Yes, and as I have made a good batch of cakes you might watch them bake.
_Alfred._ Gladly will I watch them. Show me what I must do.
_Switha._ Turn them often before the fire, thus, so that they will not burn. Now I will go for more wood for the fire.
_Alfred._ How long, I wonder, must I remain in hiding. It is very hard to wait. If only I knew how my people were faring. Will the time never come when I can rule over England and unite my people? So many plans have I for their happiness and progress. Schools we must have. The Bible must be translated for the people to read. Roads must be built and the country made safe for all. How long must I sit in Cudred"s cottage mending arrows when my heart wishes to help my suffering people!
_Switha_ (_running in_). I thought I smelled them burning! Oh, thou lazy, useless fellow! Thou art ready enough to eat the cakes, but too lazy to keep them from burning. No wonder thou hast no home, idle as thou art.
_Alfred._ I pray thee, good dame, forgive me. I was lost in thought of happier days and forgot my duty. Really I am sorry.
_Switha._ Ay, ay, that is always the way with thee. That smooth tongue of thine is better to thee than silver or gold; for it obtains for thee food, lodging, and friends, and softens all the wrath thy faults provoke. However, I shall set by all the burnt cakes for thy portion of the week"s bread, I promise thee; and thou shalt have no other till they are all eaten.