prowess.

While the king lay thus in ease at Chippenham, his enemies at
Gloucester seemed lost in enjoyment of their spoils. Guthrum had divided
the surrounding lands among his victorious followers, the Saxons had
been driven out, slain, or enslaved, and the brutal and barbarous
victors dwelt in peace and revelry on their new lands, spending the
winter in riot and wassail, and waiting for the spring-time budding of
the trees to renew the war with their Saxon foes.

[Illustration: AN ANGLO-SAXON KING.]

Not so with Guthrum. He had sworn revenge on the Saxons. Years before,
his father, a mighty chieftain, Ragnar by name, had fallen in a raid on
England. His sons had vowed to Odin to wash out the memory of his death
in English blood, and Guthrum now determined to take advantage of the
midwinter season for a sudden and victorious march upon his unsuspecting
enemy. If he could seize Alfred in his palace, the war might be brought
to an end, and England won, at a single blow.

If we can take ourselves back in fancy to New-Year's day of 878, and to
an open plain in the vicinity of Gloucester, we shall see there the
planted standard of Guthrum floating in the wind, while from every side
armed horsemen are riding into the surrounding space. They know not why
they come. A hasty summons has been sent them to meet their chieftain
here on this day, armed and mounted, and, loyal to their leader, and
ever ready for war, they ride hastily in, until the Danish champion
finds himself surrounded by a strong force of hardy warriors, eager to
learn the cause of this midwinter summons.