'A fight by a hill,' she went on, 'a steep hill, and there will be a white horse and the slope will run with blood and the Danes will run from the Sais.'
The Sais were us, the Saxons. 'You dreamed this?' I asked.
'I dreamed it,' she said.
'So it is true?'
'It is fate,' she said, and I believed her, and just then the bow of the punt scraped on the island's shore.
It was pitch dark, but there were fish-smoking fires on the beach, and by their dying light we found our way to Elwide's house. It was made of alder logs thatched with reeds and I found Alfred sitting by the central hearth where he stared absently into the flames. Elwide, the two soldiers and the marshman were all skinning eels at the hut's further end where three of the widow's children were plaiting willow withies into traps and the fourth was gutting a big pike.
I crouched by the fire, wanting its warmth to bring life to my frozen legs.
Alfred blinked as though he was surprised to see me. 'The Danes?' he asked.
'Gone inland,' I said. 'Left sixty or seventy men as ship-guards.' I crouched by the fire, shivering, wondering if I would ever be warm again.
'There's food here,' Alfred said vaguely.
'Good,' I said, 'because we're starving.'
'No, I mean there's food in the marshes,' he said. 'Enough food to feed an army. We can raid them, Uhtred, gather men and raid them. But that isn't enough. I have been thinking. All day, I've been thinking.' He looked better now, less pained, and I suspected he had wanted time to think and had found it in this stinking hovel. 'I'm not going to run away,' he said firmly. 'I'm not going to Frankia.'
'Good,' I said, though I was so cold I was not really listening to him.
'We're going to stay here,' he said, 'raise an army, and take Wessex back.'
'Good,' I said again. I could smell burning. The hearth was surrounded by flat stones and Elwide had put a dozen oat bannocks on the stones to cook and the edges nearest the flames were blackening.
I moved one of them, but Alfred frowned and gestured for me to stop for fear of distracting him.
'The problem,' he said, 'is that I cannot afford to fight a small war.'
I did not see what other war he could fight, but kept silent.
'The longer the Danes stay here,' he said, 'the firmer their grip. Men will start giving Guthrum their allegiance. I can't have that.'
No, lord.'
'So they have to be defeated.' He spoke grimly. 'Not beaten, Uhtred, but defeated!'
I thought of Iseult's dream, but said nothing, then I thought how often Alfred had made peace with the Danes instead of fighting them, and still I said nothing.
'In spring,' he went on, 'they'll have new men and they'll spread through Wessex until, by summer's end, there'll be no Wessex. So we have to do two things.' He was not so much telling me as just thinking aloud. 'First,' he held out one long finger, 'we have to stop them from dispersing their armies.
They have to fight us here. They have to be kept together so they can't send small bands across the country and take estates.' That made sense. Right now, from what we heard from the land beyond the swamp, the Danes were raiding all across Wessex, but they were going fast, snatching what plunder they could before other men could take it, but in a few weeks they would start looking for places to live.
By keeping their attention on the swamp Alfred hoped to stop that process. 'And while they look at us,'
he said, 'the fyrd must be gathered.'
I stared at him. I had supposed he would stay in the swamp until the Danes either overwhelmed us or we gained enough strength to take back a shire, and then another shire, a process of years, but his vision was much grander. He would assemble the army of Wessex under the Danish noses and take everything back at once. It was like a game of dice and he had decided to take everything he had, little as it was, and risk it all on one throw.
'We shall make them fight a great battle,' he said grimly, 'and with God's help we shall destroy them.'
There was a sudden scream. Alfred, as if startled from a reverie, looked up, but too late, because Elwide was standing over him, screaming that he had burned the oatcakes. 'I told you to watch them!'
she shouted and, in her fury, she slapped the king with a skinned eel. The blow made a wet sound as it struck and had enough force to knock Alfred sideways. The two soldiers jumped up, hands going to their swords, but I waved them back as Elwide snatched the burned cakes from the stones. 'I told you to watch them!' she shrieked, and Alfred lay where he had fallen and I thought he was crying, but then I saw he was laughing. He was helpless with laughter, weeping with laughter, as happy as ever I saw him.
Because he had a plan to take back his kingdom.
?thelingaeg's garrison now had seventy-three men. Alfred moved there with his family, and sent six of Leofric's men to Brant armed with axes and orders to make a beacon. He was at his best in those days, calm and confident, the panic and despair of the first weeks of January swept away by his irrational belief that he would regain his kingdom before summer touched the land. He was immensely cheered too by the arrival of Father Beocca who came limping from the landing stage, face beaming, to fall prostrate at the king's feet. 'You live, lord!' Beocca said, clutching the king's ankles, 'God be praised, you live!'
Alfred raised him and embraced him, and both men wept and next day, a Sunday, Beocca preached a sermon which I could not help hearing because the service was held in the open air, under a clear cold sky, and ?thelingaeg's island was too small to escape the priest's voice. Beocca said how David, King of Israel, had been forced to flee his enemies, how he had taken refuge in the cave of Adullam, and how God had led him back into Israel and to the defeat of his enemies. 'This is our Adullam!' Beocca said, waving his good hand at ?thelingaeg's thatched roofs, 'and this is our David!' he pointed to the king, 'and God will lead us to victory!'
'It's a pity, father,' I said to Beocca afterwards, 'that you weren't this belligerent two months ago.'
'I rejoice,' he said loftily, 'to find you in the king's good graces.'
