fleet
occupied the Solent. No; all that was left was to die with honour.

But to bring such disgrace upon his father and his kindred! "Blood is
thicker than water," says the old proverb, and Alfgar could not, even
had he wished, ignore the ties of blood; nature pleaded too strongly.
But there was a counter-motive even there--the dying wishes of his
mother. If his father were Danish, she was both English and Christian.

Before him the alternatives were sharply defined: Apostasy, and his
ancestral honours, with all that the sword of the conqueror could
give; and on the other hand, the martyr's lingering agony, but the
hope of everlasting life after death.

He could picture the probable scene. The furious king, the scorn of
the companions with whom he had vied, nay, whom he had excelled, in
the exercises of arms, end the ignominious death, perhaps that painful
punishment known as the "spread eagle." No, they could not inflict
that on one so nobly born, the descendant of princes.

Alas! what might not Sweyn do in his wrath?

Was Christianity worth the sacrifice? Where were the absolute proofs
of its truth? If it were of God, why did He not protect His people?
The heathen Saxons had been victorious over the Christian Britons; and
now that they had become Christian, the heathen Danes were victorious
over them. Was this likely to happen if Christ were really God?

Again Odin and Frea, with their children, and the heroes sung by the
scalds, in the war songs which he heard echoing from around the fire
at that moment:

"How this one was brave,
And bartered his life
For joy in the fight;
How that one was wise,
Was true to his friends
And the dread of his foes."

Valour, wisdom, fidelity, contempt of death, hatred of meanness and
cowardice, qualities ever shining in the eyes of warlike youth.

This creed had sufficed for his ancestors for generations, as his
father had told him. Why should he be better than they? If they
trusted to the faith of Odin, might not he?

And then, if he lived, when the war was carried into Mercia, he would
save his English friends, even although forced to live unknown to
them.

"Oh! life is sweet," thought he, "sweet to one so young as I. I have
but tasted the cup; shall I throw it down not half empty?"

He was almost conquered. He had all but turned to seek his father,
when suddenly the remembrance of Bertric flashed vividly upon him.

He saw, as in a vision, the patient, brave lad e