Action, immediate and decisive, was necessary, or Alfred would be again
in the field with a Saxon army, and the fruits of the successful
midwinter raid be lost. Messengers were sent in haste to call in the
scattered Danish bands, and a fortified camp was formed in a strong
place in the vicinity of Ethelingay, whence a concerted movement might
be made upon the lurking foe.

The time fixed for the gathering of the Saxon host was at hand. It was
of high importance that the numbers and disposition of the Danes should
be learned. The king, if we may trust tradition, now undertook an
adventure that has ever since been classed among the choicest treasures
of romance. The duty demanded was too important to trust to any doubtful
hands. Alfred determined himself to venture within the camp of the
Danes, observe how they were fortified and how arranged, and use this
vital information when the time for battle came.

The enterprise was less desperate than might seem. Alfred's form and
face were little known to his enemies. He was a skilful harper. The
glee-man in those days was a privileged person, allied to no party, free
to wander where he would, and to twang his harp-strings in any camp. He
might look for welcome from friend and foe.

Dressed in Danish garb, and bearing the minstrel's harp, the daring king
boldly sought and entered the camp of the invaders, his coming greeted
with joy by the Danish warriors, who loved martial music as they loved
war.

Songs of Danish prowess fell from the disguised minstrel's lips, to the
delight of his audience. In the end Guthrum and his chiefs heard report
of the coming of this skilled glee-man, and ordered that he should be