Star of Mercia: Historical Tales of Wales and the Marches

by Blanche Devereux

  Star of Mercia

  "_Hic regina detestatur Amplexus illicitos; Spreta mortem machinatur Ob amores vetitos._"

  "Nay, Ethelfrith, bide thou here in quiet!" said Cynerith. "Tush, girl!art no child now, at sixteen years old! Why, thou hast witnessed thedeath of many a fledgling rook. The sun must not stain thy cheeks thisday, and that thou knowest! The young man cannot now be afar off, Godhelp! Nay, good lack! I will not have such pouting! It is my behestthat thou stay at home."

  In reality, the Lady Ethelfrith could scarcely be said to pout; and sheknew her mother too well to venture a protest. The party setforth--Offa the King, the imperious Cynerith his Queen, their son theAtheling, and Eadburh their handsome elder daughter, wife of Beorhtric,King of Wessex, and now on a visit to her parents' court--and the youngEthelfrith, debarred from the sport, climbed to the upper room whichwas her own sleeping-chamber, and looked out over the shire ofHereford.

  If she leant out and turned sideways, her window commanded a view ofthe highway that ran by the gates of King Offa's palace of Sutton. Shepeered idly in that direction, without emotion of any sort--even anger,or curiosity. Below her lay the orchard-close, bright green under foot,and rosy overhead with the vernal glory of the apple-trees. It was thefairest day of the fair month of May; but its beauty awoke inEthelfrith a dull, continuous pain. She was seldom happy, poor littleprincess: she thought much, but there was no one to whom she could tellher ideas, or who would give her sympathy. The King was alwaysoccupied; her brother was as spare of speech as herself; her mother wasthe Queen and unapproachable, except when she jested coarsely; and shefeared her sister, the Queen of Wessex. There were many puzzling thingsin her everyday world which had only just begun to claim her attention.

  She was a very fairy-like being, so small and slim and fragile; hercomplexion was as delicate as the apple-blossom; she had soft eyes,grey as the plumage of a dove and a soft mouth with an obstinate curve;her hair was of the purest, palest gold, just saved from being flaxenand colourless. A strange child, surely, for those two robust persons,Offa and Cynerith. Just now she was wondering why they had not told herbefore yesterday of Ethelbert of East Anglia, his coming and itspurpose. Every one about the palace had known of it but herself. Shehad overheard what had been whispered to a servant of her sister's fromWessex, in the orchard, upon the foregoing afternoon, by one of herfather's henchmen, whose eyes had shed a marvellously tender lightwhile he gazed upon her, King Offa's daughter.

  "She is the star and flower of all Mercia," this henchman had said,"and she is to wed Lord Ethelbert, the star of the Eastern Angles."

  Although she had remarked it, the expression of the speaker'scountenance had in no wise stirred her sensibilities; she had been alittle ruffled in temper, perhaps--no more. For Ethelfrith had noaffinities with the courtiers; the overfed, voluptuous women and theirsatellites filled her with a cold disgust. The nuns of Marden, shethought, led peaceful lives, and bore in their faces a truly joyouslight. Yet she had no longing for the seclusion of a religious house.She would sometimes, however--though very rarely--go to visit thesisters and spend a day in their company. The reverend mother was amotherly woman indeed; she was very gentle with the princess, andcareful to refrain in her presence from any allusion to her life or herkinsfolk that might dash her girlish, half-childish dreams. When themaiden returned to her ordinary surroundings, how the glare and thechatter tired her head and oppressed her whole dainty frame! So it cameabout that the Lady Ethelfrith was little accounted by the great folkof Mercia: she was always silent, usually prim, and sometimes brusque;and to some she seemed a cross, spoilt child, and to others, witless.

  Then there had been her mother's half-teasing words of the eveningbefore; that was really all she knew! At the thought of King Ethelbert,a sharper pain than the ache of loneliness amid natural beauties struckthrough her heart. She remembered the Queen's parting injunctions. Herchildhood was surely at an end. This Ethelbert would be coming by thehighway to the halls of Sutton before long.

  Impatiently she turned away from the dusty road. Her eyes lighted uponthe flowering gorse-bushes that blazed upon the outskirts of an uplandcovert in the distance. There ran through her head a riddle of hernursery days, couched in the rhyming metre which the Mercians had begunto imitate from the neighbouring Welsh.

  "Yellow and green, Sharp and keen, Grows in the mene. The King can't ride it, no more can the Queen."

  Song after song, carol after carol, lay after lay, came trippingafter--some of God and the saints and ghostly blessedness; some of loveand mirth; others of woe. A smile hovered about the lips of Ethelfrith.She loved songs--they were often her only solace.

  She would walk in the garden--no, she would not. The sun was toohot--the wind was too cold. She had just decided to wile away the timeby strumming upon her cither, when she descried figures approachingalong the road. They were horsemen, many horsemen; a mighty train. Andthere, unmistakably, was the banner of some great one. It was not alord of Mercia, nor a lord of Wessex! Ethelfrith rushed from her room,down the stairs, and headlong into the orchard-close, in a fit of wildshyness.

  There was her waiting-maid, and there were several aged ladies whocared not to look on at the shooting of the rooks. All confused, shestammered to them of her surmise--how that the King of East Anglia waseven at their gates. What should they do, with her parents away?

  "Why, lady, there is no need for fear," said one kind-hearted matron.Even as she spoke a servant appeared in the orchard doorway, usheringwith every token of respect a company of nobly-attired, travel-stainedmen. In another moment the little group beneath the trees had becomeaware of the leader of the party--a young man, very lithe, verymuscular, with an energetic open countenance, and the bluest, brightesteyes that Ethelfrith had ever seen. Their glance wandered from one toanother of the women, and came to rest upon King Offa's youngestdaughter.

  It seemed to her that the universe whirled around her: she had tostrain at her insteps in order to keep herself upright. Then she heardhim saying:

  "O lady, forgive me that I know not whom I should greet! Do I speak tothe high and mighty lady, the Lady Ethelfrith of Mercia?"

  She curtsied, and hung her head; she was pallid now, who had beencrimson the instant before; her tongue refused to utter audible sound.

  "I am Ethelbert of East Anglia," continued the stranger. "Here am I atKing Offa's bidding. They have told you of my coming?"

  "Indeed, I am Ethelfrith," said she. "I do greatly grieve--my fatherand mother.... Oh, my lord, will ye not be seated? I had forgotten....Ye will deem me unmannerly...."

  "Nay, lady, surely nay," said Ethelbert earnestly; and he seatedhimself beside her upon a bench built round the trunk of an ancientapple-tree. He had begun to address her once more in his kindly tones,when a bustling noise reached them from within the palace, and inanother moment the whole court was about them. Offa, the welcominghost, Cynerith, with her ready, witty talk. And Eadburh, whose personand taste in adornment made her give the effect of a full-blown poppy.Ethelfrith felt faded and nerveless beside her. She shrank into thebackground.

  "In a good hour!" cried Offa. "Ye have spoken with my little daughter,I see: no need to make you known one to another. I trow ye are wearyfrom your wayfaring. Come with me, and ye shall bathe you, and havemeat and drink. And then, Ethelbert Etheldred's son, I will show you myhorses, my hounds, and my hawks, and ye shall say whether ye have othersuch in East Anglia."

  And they all departed into the house, leaving the princess alone.

  She, pondering dazedly, thought that a thunderstorm had broken.

  But the sun was shining as it had shone all day: the little streamwhich bounded the orchard from the meadows beyond was as blue as thesky whose colour it borrowed. The earth beneath her feet seemed to pantforth the scent, sweet and languorous, of white wild violets. A cuckooshouted insistently. The air was vibrant with the voices of createdthings. A glimmering sulphur-moth came flutterin
g before her.Ethelfrith began to run. About and about she chased it, screaming inher excitement; and presently she fell on her knees, panting, by thebrookside, her arms clasped around a clump of meadowsweet andforget-me-not.

  Summer was summer once again.

  They were all upon a green knoll, sheltered by ash and elm. They hadflown their hawks with some success, and were now enjoying shade andrepose, while their attendants laid the midday meal before them.

  Ethelfrith looked often at Ethelbert. He was listening somewhatimpatiently to Eadburh, whose florid beauty was evidently little to histaste.

  "Lord King," she was saying, "ye seem to me in no wise a monkish man. Ithought, from what I had heard, that surely ye would betake you to thelife of the cloister, or else bind yourself to all of a saint's life inyour kingly halls. I beseech you say, had ye ever such a meaning?"

  "They were my youthful thoughts," said Ethelbert. "But I have put themfar from me. A king's life is for a king, and no monk's life. Besides,I am the last of my father's house."

  He rose, and crossed to Ethelfrith, offering to pour mead into herdrinking-horn.

  Now Cynerith had looked often and long at Ethelbert since his coming.

  "A harmless boy!" she remarked to her daughter Eadburh; and then shesaid "Fore heaven! the handsomest boy I have seen this many a year!"

  Eadburh laughed her horse-laugh.

  "Are all things to thy liking, fair lady?" said Ethelbert toEthelfrith.

  "Why, greatly to my liking, O King!" answered she.

  Suddenly Cynerith called out, "Child, where is thine amethyst brooch?Is it lost, then, thou naughty one?"

  "My lady," said the girl, trembling, "I did give it.... Ye saw thebeggars. One there was that might have been a leper; and there werelittle children. O mother, be not wroth! I could not do else--woefulwas their crying. I sent them unto the sisters, who will feed them andcare for them this night; and I gave my brooch unto the woman with thebaby in her arms."

  "Fie upon thee, fie upon thee!" cried the Queen. "Is my daughteraltogether a fool? I will not have thee go among such filthy folk, totouch them belike! Precious stones give I not thee for this!"

  "All beggars and such scum should be whipped and branded," saidEadburh, little guessing that in years to come she herself would roam aforeign city,[14] begging her bread. "Lord father, think ye not that itwould be well that when a bondman have not work enough, or when hefeign himself a cripple, his lord might sell him beyond seas? So do Ioften tell King Beorhtric."

  [14] Pavia.

  "Why, why," Ethelbert broke in, "I miss my ring of onyx!"

  "Was it loose upon thy finger?" said Queen Cynerith. "Often inunhooding a hawk----"

  "Nay," said he, smiling, "I do think it is where the Lady Ethelfrith'ssweet charity would have it be!"

  Cynerith bit her lip.

  "Have ye indeed bestowed your ring upon the beggars?" Ethelfrithwhispered.

  "Surely, aye," answered he. "The sad, sorry souls! These do fear lestthey be besmirched by fellowship with the mean and ailing. But I thinkthat a king, before all men in the earth ought to be lowly." Bendingtowards her, he said softly, "Tell me now, are all things truly to thyliking?"

  "Oh, my lord...." said she. Here, amongst all these people--before allher kindred!

  "'High and mighty' I greeted thee," he pursued. "Dearest, I knew notthen to whom I spake. 'Soft and lovely lady' hail I thee now!"

  He handed her down the slope and together they wandered slowly throughthe fields.

  The royal party followed immediately, and they proceeded, mostly onfoot, along the path which leads through the lush meadow-land.Presently Cynerith called the King of East Anglia to her, and they intheir turn headed the company.

  "May-tide is God's gift to lovers," she said. "The Queen's words aresooth," was his rejoinder.

  "Hearken to the live things, and to the birds," said Cynerith, and hereyes were languishing. "Ethelbert, a woman's heart blooms blithe andtender in this month of May!"

  Eadburh looked her sister from head to foot.

  "Art not a fine woman," she remarked. "Belike thou wilt yet grow."

  "Think ye I must needs become a fine woman?" said the other, smiling.

  "Men like them," replied Eadburh. "All men," she added, with a meaningglance towards Ethelbert.

  "What wouldst thou hint?" cried Ethelfrith; but Queen Eadburh was gonefrom her side.

  The younger sister was not easy in heart or mind. Lately she had becomeaware of circumstances which she did not care to think on; and now, hersister's words! She was used to the moods of her mother; but there wasalso Sexwolf, the young lord who had been the Queen's constantcompanion for two years--he was full of smouldering fury, it wasevident, and would speak to no one. Her brother was near at hand, buthe always snubbed her when she talked inquisitively; he would be nohelp. There was thane Edric, the honest old man, seneschal of thecourt; she was certain he would tell her plainly anything he thoughtshe ought to know. Why should she not take her perplexities to him?Alack! here was Eadburh again! Her she could not question. She wouldconsult old Edric later on.

  "Is a woman ever too old to love?" said Cynerith the Queen.

  Ethelbert looked up quickly, surprised and a little amused. They werewalking along the edge of a springing cornfield.

  "Look, the bonny blossoms!" cried she.

  She stooped over a patch of poppies, whose bowls seemed to burn withliquid scarlet fire. As she did so, her hand brushed againstEthelbert's as though by accident.

  "Bonny, for sure," answered the young man.

  "Pity they have no smell--as it were, no soul. They are rank, too, Ithink. O lady mother, this morning I heard Ethelfrith singing toherself...."

  * * * * *

  "Why, Leofgythe, whither away?" said Ethelfrith.

  Said the waiting-maid: "Lady, there is great mirth afoot to-night forus of the household. The Queen hath given us leave that we may go tothe dancing at Aegelstane the Thane's. I beseech you, my lady, that yeforget not to comb your locks right thoroughly; they must shine likegold for King Ethelbert."

  "Good luck go with thee, Leofgythe," cried the Lady gaily. "I would wemight have dancing too. But I fear me we shall be too few." And shepassed on up the staircase.

  In the palace hall King Ethelbert and Queen Cynerith sat facing oneanother across a little table, playing at chess. All was not wellbetween them. The Queen leant very far over the board, and her lipswere pouting. Her fingers rested lightly upon the head of a chessman.Suddenly she withdrew her hand, and launched a side-long look at heropponent from beneath drooping lashes. Ethelbert's brow was black, andfor an instant there appeared in his eyes a glint of loathing.

  Then Cynerith surveyed the board once more and played her piece.

  It was checkmate.

  As by a common impulse, they both rose, making no comment upon thegame. The Queen was flushed and quivering. Ethelbert bowed to her andstrode hurriedly from the hall.

  Cynerith went then to King Offa's private chamber. The King was therealone: he smiled at sight of her, and greeted her lovingly. Cynerithstood before him, rapping one foot upon the earthen floor.

  "My lord," she burst forth at last, "what will ye do if things fall outeven so as your dearest wishes be undermined?"

  Offa spread wide his hands.

  "How now, sweetheart?" he queried, laughing.

  "It were well to be ready. If East Anglia become our foe--if Ethelbertwill not wed with Ethelfrith----?"

  "Not wed with Ethelfrith! Not wed my little maid! How, wife, whatmeanest thou?"

  "I understand not, for my life," said Cynerith, "which way things arefaring between them twain! It is my belief that Ethelbert is here topick a quarrel with thee, Offa."

  "Tush, woman, woman! I have marked nought of this."

  "Thou wilt own that my woman's wit is ever quicker than thine own,husband. I think he beareth little love to our daughter, and none tothee or me, or any of us. For all he is
so mild, and his tongue sosmooth, he is a man to scheme deep undertakings. Why hath he broughtwith him so great an armed train--greater far than a weddingwarranteth? Offa, I tell thee this youth will some day spread his swayin England, even so far as thou hast spread thine!"

  "If I thought he truly scorned my daughter...."

  "Shall we let him go forth, husband, wed or unwed? Thou shouldst sethim straightway in ward, the wheedling knave! or there are other ways,maybe!"

  "Lady wife," said Offa, "do thou bear in mind that this man is ourguest!"

  "My lord, Ethelbert is young, and as for thee, thou hast looked thylast upon the height of thy manhood. And Egbert our son will never bethe man that thou art. I say, beware! Come tell me now, if so be thatEthelbert of East Anglia wriggle from out of this pact he is come tomake with us--if he make of us laughing-stocks from Iceland unto CaisarCharles's court--aye, and beyond--say ye will strike, O Offa of Mercia,so that your kingly dignity be upheld in the land!"

  "God knoweth I will strike, and right heavily!" cried Offa. "I give myword I will not fail thee. But, lady, I hold thee mistaken--all thiscan scarcely be."

  And as he was in gleeful humour, he put the matter from his mind, andbegan contentedly to examine and polish his boar-spears. He hadsuffered one or two envious pangs through Ethelbert's youth and vigour.Moreover, strong man though he was, he had never been able to bridleCynerith.

  Hardly had the Queen left the room than Sexwolf, her neglectedfavourite, sprang out upon her; and bitterly he upbraided her, raging,expostulating, pleading, outside the very door of King Offa's cabinet.

  "Hold thy tongue, young man!" said she loudly, in her stateliest tones;and she swept from before him into the hall, where some were settingout the evening meal.

  It was a hot evening, even sultry. They opened the doors, and suchwindows as had swinging frames, and the red glow of sunset shone inupon them for a brief hour. Though few of their court were to bepresent, they decked themselves that night in their full finery.Cynerith, clad in wine-purple, was as handsome, seen by twilight, asshe had ever been in the days of her prime. Eadburh, in green andcrimson, was gorgeous and blatant. Ethelfrith wore white, exquisitelyembroidered with silver and gold.

  Star of Mercia was she indeed that night. Eadburh seemed a burningbrazier by contrast; Cynerith a painted shrew. No more was the LadyEthelfrith silent; merry words flowed from her lips; time and again herlaughter rippled out, soft and joyous. King Offa began, as was hiscustom, to talk of his wars, and of the stupendous dyke, boundarybetween his dominions and the lands of the wild Welsh, which the Marchfolk, at his bidding, had dug in the sweat of their brows; but he soonhushed his voice, and listened proudly while his youngest-born told ofher new-found pleasure in hunting, dancing, and friendly company. Eventhe Atheling, a stalwart, somewhat sullen youth, was seen once or twiceto smile.

  They brought her cither, and she sang them all her store of songs, withan art and confidence of which none had ever thought her capable. KingEthelbert applauded her and cast fond looks upon her, and at the end ofevery ditty he prayed her for more.

  By and by, when the light faded and the torches were kindled, Offa theKing began to yawn, and to doze in his chair. The Queen then conversedapart with Ethelbert. She bore herself meekly towards him, was innocentand child-like in manner and speech. Presently Offa awoke. His wife wasbeside him, bearing a brimming tumbler.

  "What--what--sweetheart?" said he.

  "It is mine own brew that thou lovest so well," Cynerith replied. Shewaited while he drank, and noted how the potion increased hisdrowsiness.

  "Husband," she whispered, "I have sure proof that it is even as Iguessed. He will go hence upon the morrow, leaving us pledges which hehath no mind to fulfil. Then will he stir up the men of his ownkingdom, without doubt, hoping to take thee defenceless in thine oldage. The hour is ripe, Offa my King! Shall he live to work ourundoing?"

  "I shall be nithing in the eyes of all men," murmured Offa.

  "Lo, no man shall know how the end did come about," said the Queen. "I,thy wife, will be thy handmaid in this as in all things, aye, and bearthe blame, if blame be to follow. Trust in me. O son of Woden, itprofiteth not a man to spare his enemies. Hereafter shall thy swayreach from the hills of Wales even unto the eastern sea."

  And Offa nodded his head.

  She took another cup in her hand, and beckoned to Ethelbert, who roseto meet her midmost in the hall.

  "We will talk together of the wedding day," said she. "The King leavesall such business unto me." Then they drank to one another, verygravely, where they stood.

  Eadburh, sitting by her sister, nudged her, with sneering lips.

  "Let us now to bed, children," cried Cynerith.

  "I trow we are all full weary, even as our lord the King."

  As she passed out, she said in the ear of a trusted servant: "Gymbert,be ready against I need thee!"

  Edric the seneschal stayed behind, searching the floor and the tablesfor property mislaid, smothering the torches himself with meticulouscare. He heard a light step brush across the strewn rushes. Ethelfrithstood before him, darkly cloaked and hooded.

  "My little hare was ailing this evening," said she. "I might not findthee, Edric, though I sought. But even now he is better than I couldearlier have hoped."

  "I will go see him early to-morrow," said Edric, "if ye do think hewill live through this night." He was a man of few words.

  "He will live through the night.... Edric, I have no wish to sleep. Ihave thoughts and fears which break through my rest.... And then ...Eadburh said ... at least I do fancy that she meant to say...."

  "Her tongue wags ever too fast," Edric rejoined. "Well, lady, what saidshe?"

  "It was of my lord King Ethelbert she spake.... I am sorely troubled.Meseemeth that the Queen and King Ethelbert love each other not, ormayhap.... And there is strife between my mother and Sexwolf.... I hateEadburh!" cried Ethelfrith. "God forgive me!" she added, horrified.

  Surprise and interest went far to conquer Edric's wonted reserve. Thelittle princess irked him usually; but now--yes, and formerlythroughout that evening--she showed signs of a spirit that he had neversuspected to exist in her.

  "Listen, lady," said he. "King Ethelbert should go his ways, taking youwith him. He loveth you dearly, as all may see. Here hath he been threeweeks, and is no nearer the settlement of that which brought himhither. Ye are scarce even a moment together. This is a drearbetrothal."

  "Alack! how can I help?" said she. "Can a maid beg a man to wed her?"

  "And fret not yourself too greatly over what Queen Eadburh may say ordo. Her mind is evil, and all that she looketh upon doth take on forher the same ill hue."

  "O Edric, good Edric, dear Edric, say to me that all must be well! Myheart sinks within me. Tell me--tell me truly whether my father's courtbe fair and clean, as I have heretofore dreamed it to be!"

  Edric turned away his face, and began to poke, with the staff which healways carried, in the rushes beneath a little table standing under oneof the windows. A faint clink resounded. He stooped and picked up asmall, finely-wrought key with a handle curiously bent.

  "That is my mother's wry-necked key!" exclaimed Ethelfrith. "Greatstore sets she by it. Thou knowest she weareth it ever upon the chainat her waist."

  "She leant much upon the board this evening, playing at chess withEthelbert," said the old man, "Belike it was rubbed loose, or the chainbroke."

  "It openeth the garden door of the chamber, built down into the earth,beneath the Queen's bedroom," the Lady continued. "I have never beenwithin, nor hath any that I have heard of. But Gymbert may gosometimes: he hath another key like unto this. Once, one of the maidsdid whisper.... But I will not believe it!"

  "Neither have I ever seen into that chamber," said Edric the seneschal;and both together they uttered the same words:

  "This night spake she into the ear of Gymbert, even as she left thehall!"

  "O child, be strong!" said Edric. He stopped and coughed. "There wouldbe n
o harm," he ventured, "in learning to be strong."

  They were both silent for a little while. Then "Take thou the Queen'skey, Ethelfrith Offa's daughter," said he. "She shall deem it utterlylost. It may serve thee at need."

  She slipped it into her bosom, and went softly from the room.

  "God's blood! thou sorry young fool!" cried Offa's wife. "Is this all Imust hear from thee--I, who have done thee so much honour? By theFiend! thou art right hardy! Thinkest indeed that the man who scornethme shall have my daughter? I am no loser, and Offa and I, we shallshare thy kingdom!"

  She stamped her foot three times, and scarcely had she done so when apart of the floor of her bedchamber began quickly to descend, andEthelbert King of the East Angles, who stood upon that part, sank withit out of sight.

  There followed one or two cries, fierce, but muffled almost toextinction, and a thud.

  The Queen put her face to the opening, and called, "Gymbert, is alldone?"

  There was no reply. She bent low to listen. Then a piercing soundassailed her ears--the voice of a woman, shrieking again and again,with gruesome, mechanical regularity.

  Another moment, and Cynerith had reached the garden. The outer door ofthis wing, her private door, was open. Upon the threshold stood heryoungest daughter, in night-rail and hooded cloak.

  Gymbert the Queen's thrall rushed at the Lady Ethelfrith, and tried totake hold of her. She fought and beat him off, and tottered, shriekingstill, though more faintly, sobbing and moaning, down the few steepsteps and towards the middle of the room, where lay a shapeless massfrom which a pool of crimson was spreading slowly. A flickering lanternswung from a hook upon the wall.

  Others arrived upon the scene. First came old Edric; then Eadburh, withher mass of tawny hair about her face; then Offa, muttering hoarsely;and all the inhabitants of the palace thronged to learn what hadbefallen.

  Ethelfrith was seated upon the ground, holding Ethelbert's disseveredhead in her arms, and she rocked herself to and fro, and chanted in afar-away tone.

  "Under the leaves, under the leaves, There saw I maidens seven!"

  She broke off short, and changed her tune.

  "Then He built Him a bridge of the beams of the sun, And over the water ran He; And the three wealthy wights they followed him after, And drowned they were all three!"

  "Come, canst thou riddle me my ridlass?

  "Yellow and green, Sharp and keen, Grows in the mene. The King cannot ride it, no more can the Queen."

  "No more can the Queen.... I must mind me to tell my mother that in twoyears and a little more her son will be lying dead and cold. How sisterEadburh will storm at what must follow--the fall of our proud house!...Heart's dearest, the sun is high in heaven. Why do ye not awake, mylord? Do ye not hear the lark singing? Ethelbert, there is blood allabout thy hair--it is like a crown, Ethelbert!"

  Babbling thus and laughing, she was torn away: nor did she ever recoverher reason, though she lived thereafter thirty years.