"No, no," answered the wisest of his thanes. "It would be worse than
rash, it would be madness. They are twenty--a hundred, mayhap--to our
one. Let us fly now, that we may fight hereafter. All is not lost while
our king is free, and we to aid him."

Alfred was quick to see the wisdom of this advice. He must bide his
time. To strike now might be to lose all. To wait might be to gain all.
He turned with a meaning look to his faithful thanes.

"In sooth, you speak well," he said. "The wisdom of the fox is now
better than the courage of the lion. We must part here. The land for the
time is the Danes'. We cannot hinder them. They will search homestead
and woodland for me. Before a fortnight's end they will have swarmed
over all Wessex, and Guthrum will be lord of the land. I admire that
man; he is more than a barbarian, he knows the art of war. He shall
learn yet that Alfred is his match. We must part."

"Part?" said the thanes, looking at him in doubt. "Wherefore?"

"I must seek safety alone and in disguise. There are not enough of you
to help me; there are enough to betray me to suspicion. Go your ways,
good friends. Save yourselves. We will meet again before many weeks to
strike a blow for our country. But the time is not yet."

History speaks not from the depths of that woodland whither Alfred had
fled with his thanes. We cannot say if just these words were spoken, but
such was the purport of their discourse. They separated, the thanes and
their followers to seek their homes; Alfred, disguised as a peasant, to
thread field and forest on foot towards a place of retreat which he had
fixed upon in his mind. Not even to the faithfulest of his thanes did he