University of Virginia Library

SCENE III

[The Witanagemote. Alfred, wearing a circlet of gold round his head, and bearing in his hand a wand, is seated on a high oaken settle, with Edward standing on his right. Round him are his Reeves, Thanes, and chief Ealdormen; Plegmund, Archbishop of Canterbury; Werefrith, Bishop of Worcester, and Grimbald, his Mass-priest. In the enclosed space are congregated the lesser Ealdormen and their followers, the armed Freemen. Behind, at a little distance, stand the short-haired unarmed Serfs. The Queen and her daughter Ethelfrida, followed by a train of noble maidens, carry the mead-bowl round to the Thanes and Ealdormen.]
FIRST FREEMAN.
He looks like Justice throned.

SECOND FREEMAN.
And such he is,
And hither will none hie to press their claim,
Save it be true; for Alfred's gaze can pierce
Through densest fogs of falsehood and uncloak
Each hireling lie.

THIRD FREEMAN.
Withal, how mild his look.
A mother's eyes are not more moist with love
Than his, when they are fixed upon his son,
The stalwart Atheling.

FOURTH FREEMAN.
Yet is he stern
As Ethelnoth himself, if he but mark
Some blemish on a forehead unabashed.
I would as lief face God, were I to blame,
As stand, for fault stripped bare, before the King.

FIRST FREEMAN.
Can it be true that he as lettered is
As Grimbald's self?

SECOND FREEMAN.
Aye, ever since the day
He learned the book of pictured Saxon verse
Quickest of all his brothers, he hath stored
His mind with written lore.

THIRD FREEMAN.
I mind me, too,
How in his boyhood was there none more deft
To cope a haggard peregrine, to knit
The bewits to the bells, or smoothly swing
The feathered lure around his head until
The unseamed falcon learned to wing its way
Over the herons homing up the wind,
And, binding, rake its quarry to the ground.

FOURTH FREEMAN.
Aye, and I warrant he could still unhood
A cast, and send them flying on the chase,
As he will stoop upon the Danes, and force
Their filthy pannels to disgorge the food
Poached in our English pools.

FIRST FREEMAN.
In every art
He shows the way. Woodcraft and masonry,
Shoesmith or wheelwright, all are one to him.
He throws the buttressed bridge across the stream,
And plans the sinewy curve of each fresh keel
That bears the roving ramparts of the realm.
Unto the goldsmith's dainty handiwork
He lends his counsel, even while he broods
On the rough shifts and sudden wants of war.
Never, like Buhred, would he quit the land,
Came every Danish oarsman oversea
To hem us in.

SECOND FREEMAN.
Hush! He anon will speak.

ALFRED
(rising).
Ealdormen, and Thanes, and Free Men all,
Whom here I see, banded in battle-gear,
Kin of my sceptre, helpmates of my sword,
To you I come, your King and Overlord,
Offering and seeking wisdom. Let them speak,
So that they fight, both when and how they will,
And only those stand husht who bear no spear.
For 'twere unmeet that those who in a State
Wield no more worthy weapon than the tongue,
Should have or voice or share in ruling it.
In Witanagemote and Folkmote both,
More royal-rich than these marsh fastnesses,
In better days we have met. But let none think
That I am less a King, or you more base,
That of such trappings we awhile are scant
As Peace can hang about a Ruler's hearth.
For he still reigns whose mind is not dethroned,
And, though marauders ravage half his realm,
Upholds unserfed the Sceptre of his soul.
Kings there have been, aye and of Cerdic's blood,
With Woden's thunder moaning in their veins,
Who, even as Inè, doffed a doleful Crown,
Donning the cowl. I shall not do like these.
What though I found within the royal bed,
Where I had lain with this my cleanly Queen,
Littered, the farrow of a forest sow,
Should I bemoan the fashion of the world,
Tonsure the head Pope Leo's very hand
Anointed kingly, and slink hence to Rome
A niddering pilgrim? Never, while you stand
Steadfast about me! Nay, if you should leave
The Crown of Egbert fenceless on my brow,
It should not fall till I had fallen too,
And gone to God to answer for my Rule,
As every shriven soul must answer Him
Whose Sceptre doth not pass. Tell me then, now,
Free Men of Hampshire, Devon, Somerset,
Here mustered in your Hundreds, do you will
That we fare forth anew unto the field,
To put it to the proof of life and death,
If this fair isle be Guthrum's land or ours?

Freemen
(clashing their spears).
Aye! Aye!

ALFRED.
You answer as beseemeth those that clung
Close to my side at Ashdune on the day
When Ethelred, my brother, now with God,
Lingered at mass, and the rough Danish King,
Barsac, along with Osbern, Harold, Frene,
And the two Sidracs, lay upon their backs,
And never stood up more; aye, and who took
Their share with me in those eight sinewy shocks
At Merton, Reading, Wilton, Englefield,
Within one year, whereby, when first I wore
The kingly crown, Guthrum and Oskytel
Swore not alone on relics of the saints,
But on their pagan bracelet smeared with blood,
In sacrifice, the pledges now they break.
Their hostages I hold, but 'tis not meet
That upon these should fall the Christian sword;
And, spared, they now fain fight upon our side,
Betraying their betrayers. But there be
Others, unfree, withal for whom Christ died,
Into whose hands I will entrust the spear,
So they will thrust for England, and your voice
Says aye to mine.

Freemen
(clashing their spears).
Aye! Aye!

ALFRED.
(to the Serfs).
Therefore, in this free Witan, I decree,
Weaponless men, that you be weaponed now;
And, should you fall, your offspring shall be free,
And offspring's offspring, and their locks shall float
Over their necks by no base burden bowed.
Nor yet of these alone I snap the chain;
But unto you, the tonsured serfs of God,
I stretch my hand, and bid you, I your King,
To do as Toli at Kesteven did,
When Hingvar's pagan bands, with Hubba's horde,
Moved against Croyland, now alas! their prey:
The layman's sword he buckled to his frock,
And with the battle-axe avenged the Cross.
Do you as he, and with a better doom,
Reclaiming Croyland, Ely, Huntingdon,
For pious peace, such as at Glastonbury
Still happily abides. Yet, since the land
Which bred you, suckled you, and fosters now,
Hath upon all male thews this righteous toll,
More needful is it still that they whom God
Shaped to be nests and nourishers of life,
Should double now their song and suit to Heaven
For England's weal. Therefore, my Wife, depart,
With all white souls that willing wend with you,
Unto the eastern gate of Shaftesbury,
And build you there a nunnery whose vows
May win the deathless Overlord of War
To lead our van in fight, and fence our rear.
I have your leave for this, Lady and Wife,
Whom still a silent helpmate at my side,
And by that silence keeping me more strong,
I pray to have, till strength avails no more.
And, though my grandsire Egbert left his land
To those that wield the spear, and not to those
That ply the distaff, and his law stands mine,
To you, in endless token of the trust
That you have had in me, and I in you,
I do bequeathe Wantage and Athelney,
My cradle, and my refuge, in this war,
To hold as free as you have held my love.
And may the bane of Christ and all His Saints
Blind him that setteth it aside!

[The Queen, Ethelfrida, and their handmaidens, depart. As they pass out, Asser, followed by a group of Welsh Chieftains, enters.]
ALFRED.
[Recognising Asser.]

ASSER.
Loving Lord and King,
My pupil, yet my master, these scared men
Are gentle in their blood, of princely birth,
Sons of King Mouric, Tendyr, Hemrid, Ris,
Who now on-this-side Britain wield the rod.
They from Demetria followed me, their guide,
To crave your overlordship in their land
Against the unrulier Welsh that harry it,
Leagued with the Danish robbers of the main.

ALFRED.
Asser! to bring good tidings ever first,
You never brought me blither news than this.
Bid them be seated,—aye, more near to me,—
And tell them in their tongue, till they learn ours
Which it will be your happy lot to teach,
That in this Island there must be one lord,
One law, one speech, one bond of blood between
Saxon and Briton, and that Wales must be
Not more nor less than England, but the same.
Their will is still their own, to go or stay,
But, on the word and promise of a King,
So they will aid me to beset the foe,
And we together conquer, they shall dwell,
They and their kindred, free among their hills,
Fenced beyond heathen ravin by my sword.
[Again addressing the Witanagemote.]
Gone are the women. None but men stand here,
And but to men and manly ears I speak.
You know my law, whereby, one half the year,
Each one may keep his hearth and till his land,
Eschewing for that while the toll of war,
But, when the time is past, he must anew
Take shield and spear; and some of you there be
Who now afresh have claim to put these off,
And back unto their homesteads; and the law,
The law shall stand, if 'tis their will to go.
Never shall law be broken in this land,
Leastways by me: so speak who claim to go,
And nurse a liking for the coward's doom,
A grave of mire, with hurdle over it.

[They all remain silent.]
ALFRED.
Nay, but I will not shame you into right,
Nor in the deadly fellowship of war
Have at my side unwilling guild-brothers.
Therefore I say to all, to those that hold
Five hides of land and owe me service for it,
Earl and ceorl, tithing—hundred—man,
Franklin and yeoman, ploughman, goatherd, sower,
Hayward and woodward, all that liefer would
Earn with their sweat what they might win with blood,
You all are free to go, and in the fight
We will make boot without you. House-carles shall
Fill up the gap you leave.

FREEMEN.
We all will stay.

ALFRED.
Then pledge me in the mead-bowl, spearmen all,
Me, your host-leader! While that Ethelred,
My brother, lived, I bowed to him as King,
Though by my father's will I might have claimed
Rule over Kent; and this I did because
'Twas best for England, and for England now
Is it not best I be your Overlord?

Freemen
(striking their shields with their spears).

ALFRED.
Now tell them, Werefrith, that whoever falls
Fighting for England, soul-shot sure shall be,
And wend him straight from battle-doom to Christ.

[All kneel, and Werefrith blesses them.]