inform us it was revealed to Rollo in a dream that he should found a kingdom in France.
After his departure, Alfred enjoyed a repose, which afforded him leisure to revolve means to prevent these frequent invasions; and he ultimately determined to equip a fleet, and engage the Danes before they came to land, where they generally had the advantage; and as the latter had not contemplated being engaged at sea, their ships were only fit for transports, whereas those built by Alfred were constructed for warlike service. It was not long before he reaped the fruit of this wise precaution; for his fleet meeting with six Danish vessels, gave chase to them, and one of the largest being taken, the soldiers and mariners were thrown overboard. This first engagement was followed by a much more considerable one. 120 sail of Danish transport ships making to the shore in order to land their men, the king's fleet attacked them, and sunk the greatest part of them; and the next year another Danish fleet sailing westward, met with so violent a storm, that all the ships perished, except a few which fell into the hands of the English.
Alfred, encouraged by these successes, resolved to attack the Danes in the west, where they had fortified themselves by the taking of Exeter, and where the Cornish men had always taken part with them; and he ultimately obliged them to give him hostages, and entirely abandon Wessex. They retired into Mercia, where they became confounded with the rest of their countrymen. A year before these events occurred, Halfden had elevated Egbert to the throne, in place of Recsige.
The invaders were in possession of three of the kingdoms of the Heptarchy; but this was insufficient to satisfy the hordes who were continually pouring in upon the devoted island with the design of settling; and an expedition was consequently planned, with the greatest secrecy, against Wessex.
The attack took place so suddenly that Alfred was ill prepared to meet it. Chippenham was taken, and the dispirited Britons no longer felt courage to prosecute the war. Many fled, whilst others—and of them not a few—leagued themselves with the Danes, swearing allegiance to them.
So general was the defection, that the unhappy monarch found himself deserted by all but a few domestics and faithful friends, who still adhered to his fallen fortunes. In this extremity, he showed himself greater, perhaps, than when on the throne, and acted with a prudence and wisdom which few princes would have found courage to imitate. He dismissed them all; and, with no other support than his courage and patriotism, set forth a wanderer, alone, and on foot, in the kingdom he had so lately reigned over.
So great was his poverty, that the uncrowned king was compelled to solicit shelter in the hut of a neat-herd in the island Athelney, in Somersetshire, a remote spot, surrounded by a dangerous marsh, wild and desolate as his own fortunes, and only to be approached by a single path, and that but little known. Here the fugitive had time to repair his shattered health, collect his thoughts, and meditate on plans for the future delivery of his oppressed and outraged country. Savage and uninviting as was his retreat, it afforded that which he had most need of—safety.
It is recorded that, whilst Alfred was an inmate of this abode, the neat-herd's wife, having occasion to quit the cottage for a time, set him the task of watching the cakes of rye-bread which were baking on the fire. The king, whose mind was distracted by far more important subjects, neglected his instructions, and when the woman returned, she found the cakes blackened and burnt. If tradition speaks truly, the virago chid him soundly, reproaching him that he was more ready to eat than to work.
In this miserable concealment the fugitive remained six months, when fortune, tired of persecuting him, appeared to relent, and once more smiled upon the efforts of the brave, but hitherto unlucky, Saxons.
Hubba, who had been entrusted by his brother Ivar with the command of his troops, had invaded Wales, laying the country in flames, ravaging, and destroying. He afterwards penetrated into Devonshire, in the kingdom of Wessex, with a similar intent. At his approach the Earl of Devon retreated with a body of determined men to Kenworth Castle, on the river Taw, in order to withstand them.
The Danish chief was not long before he decided on attacking the fortress, believing that the scanty garrison would surrender at his first summons; in which opinion, however, he was doomed to find himself mistaken, for the earl, seeing that it was impossible to defend the place with so few men, however devoted, told them frankly that one only course was left for them, to conquer and live free men, or die beneath the swords of their relentless enemy. His harangue had the desired effect: the Saxons, animated by his words, sallied forth, and fell upon the Danes so unexpectedly, that before they could recover from their panic their leader was slain; on seeing which, his followers fled in all directions.
The spot where Hubba fell was afterwards called Hubblestain, or Hubblelaw, from the monument raised over his remains by his countrymen.
On hearing the joyful intelligence of this victory, Alfred left his concealment, and called his friends once more to arms. They assembled in separate bodies in various parts of the kingdom, establishing such means of communication as might enable them to join their forces together at the shortest notice.
The great difficulty was to ascertain the position of the enemy, which dangerous task the patriot king undertook himself. The story runs that, disguised as a harper, he made his way into the Danish camp, and stayed there several days, secretly noting the disposition of their forces all the while. Having acquainted himself with all he wished to learn, Alfred returned to his countrymen, and named Selwood Forest for the general place of meeting. His directions were carried out so expeditiously, that in a comparatively brief space of time the Saxon monarch was enabled to attack his enemy at the head of a powerful army, consisting of the inhabitants of Somersetshire, Wiltshire, and Hampshire. The Danes, though unexpectedly assailed, defended themselves with their usual bravery, but at last were entirely routed.
They attributed their defeat to the loss of the raven standard, which had been taken when Hubba fell, and to which they superstitiously attached magical powers—that it indicated victory and defeat by clapping or depressing its wings.
Alfred, taking advantage of the consternation thus struck into the whole body of resident Danes, compelled them to
