we banished the romantic legends merely because they are not confirmed
by such dry-as-dust evidence as alone will satisfy a certain section of
scientific compilers, whose minds can perceive neither truth nor beauty
underlying ancient legends and traditions. The fact that they cannot be
proved to have happened is more than half their charm, and our garden of
romance, with its beautiful flowers of chivalry, is infinitely better to
live with than the dry and parched fields given over to the cultivation
of nothing but facts.

The defeat of the Danish giant is said to have been achieved in a
meadow to the north of the city, named from that occurrence "Danemark
Mead"; and we are told also that the Dane's sword was to be seen in the
Cathedral treasury down to the reign of James I. Be this as it may, we
do know that in the eighth year of Edward I a writ of right was brought
by the King against the Abbot of Hyde, to recover land usurped in the
north suburb of the city, called "Denemarche", and judgment was given
for the crown.

The appearance of the city in Saxon days has been described thus by Dean
Kitchin: "The three Minsters, which filled up the south-eastern corner
of the city, were for long the finest group of churches and dwellings in
all England. Wolvesey Palace, at once the school, the court of justice,
and the royal dwelling place, formed the bulwark against the dreaded
invasions of the Dane; inwards from Wolvesey precincts came the strong
enclosure of St. Swithun's Convent, a second fortress, which protected
the church, and behind both, sheltered by their strong walls and by the
river and the marshlands to the north, were the growing buildings of the
Nuns' Minster, and the new Minster. And up the rising towards the west,
on either side of the ancient Roman road from the eastward gate of the
city, the houses of the citizens began to cluster into a street, with