Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune<br />A Tale of the Days of Edmund Ironside by A. D. Crake (easy books to read in english txt) 📗

to be true to my country, and not in teaching me outlandish gibberish."

"Still," said the bishop, "it is important to learn the day."

"Alfgar can perhaps inform you, but one day must have been much like another to him in the Danish camp."

"His statement would need verification," said Ednoth.

"He is as true and brave as any man here."

"Of course, all Danes are true and brave," said Edric.

"He is a Christian."

"Yes; I think he became one on St. Brice's day," suggested Edric.

"To save his life, no doubt," said the sheriff.

Meanwhile Ethelred had changed colour, and Edric cried out:

"Have we not forgotten in whose presence we are? The king, who was quite ignorant of the mistaken zeal which misinterpreted his wishes that day, cannot bear to be reminded of it. He is all too merciful and gentle for such days as ours."

"I suppose he put on mourning for Elfhelm," whispered Edmund in the bishop's ear.

"Forget not that he is your father."

"We are wasting time," said the king. "Edric, what is your answer to this accusation?"

"That when the army disbanded I went on pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Joseph at Glastonbury, and can produce, in the time requisite for a messenger to go and return, an attestation to that effect. Here," he said, putting his hand to his bosom, and drawing out a reliquary, "is a holy thorn plucked from St. Joseph's tree."

"Art thou not ashamed, my son, to have brought such a charge against the venerator of the Saints, one of the few in whom faith yet lives?"

"No, for I do not believe he was ever there at all."

"Witness the holy thorn."

"Thorns may be plucked in bushels round Dorchester or any other place."

"It is a question of pure testimony," said the bishop.

"It is," added the sheriff and the reeve.

"Then, may I produce my witness?" said Edmund.

"Certainly," said the king.

"By all means," added Edric.

The bishop called an attendant, and ordered him to fetch Alfgar.

"Before he enters I must remind you all," said Edric, "that the word of a Dane is to be opposed to that of a Christian."

"I have already said that Alfgar is a Christian."

But Edric had already, by his adroit suggestion about St. Brice's day, predisposed the company to doubt the genuineness of Alfgar's conversion.

A long pause succeeded, which no one seemed to care to break. Ethelred was anxious for his favourite; the traitor himself was studying how to meet the accusation; the Prince was furious, and was striving in vain to repress his surging passions, the others were perplexed.

The messenger returned after a time to say that Alfgar had left the palace.

"Left the palace!" said Edmund.

"About half-an-hour since."

"There is some vile treason here," said Edmund.

"Treason! on whose part?" said Edric.

"Thine, villain."

"I am glad you think so, for you give me an opportunity of demonstrating to the court how unreasonable your hatred makes you, and how unjust. I have not left the king's presence since your first appearance."

"It is true," said Ethelred.

Edmund was completely baffled.

"It appears to me," said the king, "that he fears the discovery of his villainy, and has taken himself off. I will offer a fitting reward to the man who shall produce him; meanwhile, it is useless to continue this scene."

"Wait at least a few minutes," said Edmund, and went forth himself.

Vainly he sought through all the courts of the palace--once he thought Alfgar, whose fidelity he never suffered himself to doubt, might be in the chapel, and went there in vain.

At last he found a servitor who had seen him go with some men into the city, and hurried forth in search of him. He passed through all the streets inflaming the curiosity of the watchmen; the darkness (for there were very few lamps or lights of any kind, in those days, for public use) was intense, a drizzling rain was falling, and at length, weary, wet, and dispirited, he returned to the palace, and found that the council, tired of waiting, had at length broken up.

The bishop offered him hospitality, evidently sympathising with his distress, and once suggested a doubt of the fidelity of his page, but Edmund repelled it instantly.

"He is true as life," he said.

"But the king himself is witness that Edric has not left his presence."

"If not, he has plenty of villains about him to anticipate his orders, vile as Godwin, port-hund of Shrewsbury. Depend upon it they have murdered him, but if so, I will have vengeance, such vengeance--I will challenge the villain Edric to single combat."

"The Church would forbid it."

"Do you then sympathise with the hypocrite?"

"Alas, my son! who can read the heart of man? I know not what to think."

"But you could read the history of the last campaign. A fool might--I beg pardon--were not all our plans known beforehand? Did not all our enterprises fail? Were not all our ambushes anticipated? Did we not fall into all theirs? If they had had a prophet like Elisha, who told the king of Israel all Benhadad said in his council chamber, they couldn't have managed better. Can you explain this?"

"No, my son."

"Then I can, for I heard Sweyn say that they had a friend in the English camp."

"Then you actually put your head in the lion's mouth, prince?" and the good bishop, purposely to relieve the prince's mind, drew out from him all the story of his late adventures.

Deep was the distrust which Ednoth himself entertained of the fair-speaking Edric, yet he would not encourage the Etheling in further ill-timed opposition to his father.

So at last Edmund slept, and trusted that with the morn he should find Alfgar; but the morn came, and all his inquiries were vain.

The chamber in which Alfgar was confined contained a box-like recess for the straw bed, a chair, and a rough table, and these were all the comforts at his disposal, but they were enough for one in that hardy age. It was very strongly built, not a loose plank about it, although the wind found its way through numerous crevices, to the slight discomfort of the inmate.

But not one hour of sleep could Alfgar take all that night. What would the Etheling think of him? was his constant thought, he who had saved his life at the risk of his (the Etheling's) own. Must he not think that the lad whose life he had saved had been false to him? and this thought was agony to the faithful and true heart of the prisoner.

He scarcely doubted for one moment into whose hands he had fallen--that he was in Edric Streorn's power. The only thing he could not quite comprehend was, why they had thought it worth while to imprison him, when murder would seem the more convenient mode of removing an unpleasant witness.

Early on the following day he heard some people approach the door of the house, and heard them admitted. Shortly afterwards a firm step ascended the stair, and the door opened.

Edric Streorn stood before him.

The captor eyed his captive with a look of conscious pride, and said with some complacence, "You see, and perhaps repent, your rashness in the accusation you made."

"It was true."

"I do not think it worth my while to deny it here; but what of that?--I am an Englishman by birth, but (let us say) a Dane by choice. You are a Dane by the fortune of birth, but an Englishman by choice; the worse choice, you will find, of the two."

Alfgar felt confused.

"But I did not come here to exchange compliments with you, nor to prove, as to the fools you have chosen to serve, that I was on pilgrimage at the time you name. I have a direct purpose in detaining you here, for I have lately seen Sweyn."

"Traitor!"

"I thought we had agreed that we could not throw stones at each other on that account. Well, the gentle Sweyn has taken your evasion very much to heart, and earnestly desires to repossess himself of your person; but for this, my easiest plan would have been to rid myself of so troublesome a witness in a more speedy manner, and you might ere this have fed the fishes of the Thames.

"Therefore," he continued, "unless you can satisfy me of two or three points, I shall deliver you to Sweyn."

Alfgar thought at first that this was simply an idle threat, since it would be almost impossible to convey him secretly through the country to the Isle of Wight. Edric understood his thoughts.

"You forget," he said, "that Sweyn will shortly be here; your friend, the Etheling, may have told you that, if you did not know it before; he is telling it to everybody, but no one believes him. Only think, no one will believe that Sweyn could be so audacious, and they think that, listening behind walls and in cupboards, the Etheling, perhaps, drank too much of what he found there--and that was all. Well, when Sweyn comes, he may, if he will, make a public example to all apostates in your honoured person; meanwhile Edmund thinks you have deserted him."

No torturer ever seemed to take a keener pleasure in the throes of his victim, than Edric in the mental agony he kindled in the breast of his unhappy prisoner.

"But I said I might release you, or at least mitigate your fate, on one condition, that you answer me a plain question directly and plainly. Under what name does Edmund travel, and what disguise, and does he purpose to trust himself in the Danish camp again? Where is he at present residing? he has disappeared from the palace."

"Monster!" said Alfgar, "you tempt like Satan. Away, and leave me to my fate."

"You will think better of it by and by when confinement upon bread and water has tamed you. I will come once more, but it will be the last time; and, mark you, should your people be defeated-- the Danes I mean--still your escape would not necessarily follow; the house might take fire, it is of timber, and would soon burn down; a sad misfortune it would be.

"Good morning. I am going to mass with the king; shall I say a Pater and an Ave for you, since you are prevented from being there. The saints have you in their holy keeping!"

His manner throughout had been like that of a cat playing with a mouse, and there was quite a gratified smile upon his lips as he went.

Strange to say, Alfgar felt less miserable after he was gone. The wickedness of Edric seemed so great, his hypocrisy so unblushing, that in his simple faith Alfgar could not believe that he would be allowed to succeed. Many a holy text in the Psalms came to his mind, and seemed to assure him of Divine protection.

"I myself have seen the ungodly in great power; and flourishing like a green bay tree.

"I went by, and, lo! he was gone; I sought him, but his place could nowhere be found.

"Seek innocency, and take heed to the thing that is right: for that shall bring a man peace at the last."

"So, come what will," said he, "I will trust in Him and never will I save my life by uttering one word which might betray the innocent."

In this manner days lengthened into weeks. He tried in vain to open any intercourse with his ferocious jailor, whose ward was sometimes shared by a comrade, when there was much ungodly revelry below, and snatches of Danish war songs mingled with profane oaths. The deep, deep bay of the mastiff sometimes gave warning of the advent of a stranger, or of the step heard from the distance, in the still deep night; but this was all that Alfgar could learn of the outer world, from which he was banished at so critical a moment.

CHAPTER XV. FATHER CUTHBERT'S DIARY AT CLIFFTON.

SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT.--

The evening, after the Vesper service in the church was over, and darkness had closed in, we all sat down to our evening meal. The doors were shut to keep out the storm, and I had already said grace, when the Etheling suddenly appeared.

His manner struck us all. He looked wild and agitated, and his first words cast a chill over us.

"Where is Alfgar?"

"Is he not with you, what has happened?" said I and Herstan, speaking in the same breath.

"No, I have lost him. I had hoped to find him here; they must have murdered him," he cried.

"Murdered him?"

"Yes, he was too dangerous to Edric to be suffered to live. I might have foreseen it; and they have put him out of the way by cowardly assassination," insisted the Etheling.

There was too much reason in his words.

"Besides," said he, "if he were well and uninjured, would he not have come here, where he was sure of a welcome?"

"I will go to Dorchester at once," said Herstan.

"It is useless," said Edmund; but my brother, having learnt all that the prince could tell him, mounted