by A. D. Crake
toreturn home, but his host would not permit him, saying he should have toanswer to Dunstan some day for his guest.
The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet notunpleasantly: there were a thousand things to observe in the woods andmarshes around, full of animal life.
Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove hiscattle forth to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, andAlfred would willingly have gone, too, but they told him he must rest.So he took his breakfast of hot milk and bread, with oat cakes baked onthe hearth, and waited patiently till the warmth of the day tempted himout, under the care of Oswy, to watch the distant herd, to drink of theclear spring or recline under some huge spreading beech, while thebreeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him pleasantly to sleep.
At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of suchinferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place,contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then therewas far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had nocause to complain of the cowherd's table.
Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himselfwith the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longingearnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, theyheard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared insight.
Alfred rose up eagerly.
"Are they safe?" he cried.
"Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers gotto the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above."
"Did they try to follow?"
"They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage."
Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he lookedup in the face of the guide.
"Will you guide us home?" he said.
"Yes," was the reply; "the holy abbot particularly desired me to returnto his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and ifyou will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey toAescendune, for we are not worth following."
"Then let us start tomorrow morning," said Alfred, longing to be oncemore in his old father's presence, and to cheer his mother's heart.
They returned together to the cowherd's cottage, and slept peacefullythat night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way,crossing the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well restedand full of spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still emptyand desolate, in the middle of the day, and retraced by easy stages thewhole of Alfred's previous route from home.
After a week's easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, theyreached the neighbourhood of Aescendune: it had never looked so lovely,so home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full ofjoy, and as he was recognised by person after person, by his favouritedogs as they bounded forth, and finally fell into his mother's arms atthe gate of the hall, he experienced feelings which in these days, whenwe are all so familiar with the thought of travel, can seldom be realised.
Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to anadmiring audience, who listened enraptured to his account of theholiness of Dunstan and the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily beimagined that he made no allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; andOswy, instructed by his young master, was equally silent.
He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could dono good to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, andhow nearly he had been the involuntary instrument of his brother's death.
"God can change his heart," said Alfred to himself, "and bring him homelike the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so often."
So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many asupplication on his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Timewill show whether they were lost.
CHAPTER XIV. EDWY AND ELGIVA.
Edwy, King of England, and Elgiva, his queen, gave a great feast attheir royal palace in London, a month after the events recorded in ourlast chapter; and a numerous company had assembled to do honour to theirhospitality. Yet the company was very different from that which hadassembled round the same hospitable board in the days of King Edred.First, the Churchmen were conspicuous by their absence; and secondly,all the old grey-headed counsellors, who had been the pride and ornamentof the reigns of Edmund and Edred, were not seen; for, after the rumourof their marriage had reached Odo, he had pronounced the sentence of thelesser excommunication upon them, severing them from the sacraments; andthis was felt by the old counsellors of Edred to be a most seriousstigma, yet one which they could not call undeserved: hence theydeserted the court.
In their place were the young and giddy, the headstrong sons of wiserfathers, the spendthrifts, the young fops of the period, those who wentin for a fast life, to use a modern phrase--who spent the night, ifnot the day, over the wine cup, and consumed their substance in riotousliving--such were they who gathered around Edwy the Fair and the yetfairer Elgiva.
And truly king and queen more beautiful in person had never sat upon athrone; and it was difficult to look upon them and feel aught butadmiration, save when one knew all their history, and then pity andsorrow might supply the place of admiration, at least with the sober minded.
Fish, flesh, and fowl; nought was wanting. The earth the air, and thewater, all yielded their tribute; for was it not the anniversary of themarriage--the uncanonical marriage, alas!--of the royal pair, ifmarriage it had truly been?
Eels of enormous size, fine as the Roman lamprey, pike roasted withpuddings in their bellies, tench and carp stewed; while the sea yieldedits skate, its sturgeon, and its porpoise, which the skill of the cookhad so curiously dressed with fragrant spices that it won him greatrenown. The very smell, said a young gourmand, was a dinner in itself;and the wild buck supplied its haunch, and the boar its head, while fowlof all kinds were handed round on spits.
The drinking was of like sumptuous character, and Rhenish wine contendedwith the wines of sunny France for precedence, as they were passed roundin silver cups and gold-mounted horns; for glass was seldom, if ever,used for such purposes then.
The floor was strewed with the sweetest summer flowers, and exhaled anodour balmy as the breath of eastern climes, where the breeze plays withthe orange blossoms. The tapestry was beautifully woven by foreignartists, and represented the loves of the gods; while there was nothingin keeping with the olden style throughout the whole apartment.
But one seat was vacant near the king's throne, and every now and thenEdwy seemed to cast a wistful eye upon it, as if he would fain see itsordinary occupant there.
The gleemen rose and sang, the harpers harped, but something waswanting; they brought tears to the eyes of the fair queen by theirplaintive songs of hapless lovers, which had superseded alike the warsongs of Athelstane and the monkish odes of Edred.
"Where is Elfric? He promised to be back by our wedding day; why does hedelay, my Edwy?" asked Elgiva.
"It is little less than treason to the queen of youth and beauty to bethus absent, my Elgiva, but remember he has been unwell, and Redwaldtold me that for prudential reasons they delayed his return to court."
"And your brother Edgar--"
"Is somewhere in Mercia: the churlish boy has declined our invitation tohonour our feast with his presence. We do not want his serious face atthe board. I am sure he would preach on the duty of fasting."
"He has but seldom been our visitor."
"No; he is afraid, perhaps, to trust his cold heart within the magic ofmy Elgiva's sunshine, lest the ice should be melted."
These had been asides, while all the company were listening to thegleeman; but now Edwy threw himself heart and soul into the currentconversation, and all went merry as a marriage peal, until theceremoniarius--for Edwy loved formality in some things--threw openthe folding doors and announced the captain of the hus-carles, andElfric of Aescendune.
The whole company rose to receive them, and Elfric in par
ticularreceived a warm welcome; but it was at once seen that there was a markedconstraint upon him: his eye was restless and uneasy, and he seemed likeone carrying a load at his breast.
In truth, since that fatal night when, as he believed, he had witnessedthe death of his brother, he had striven in vain to drown care and tobanish remorse: the thought of his aged father deprived of both his sons--the one by death, the other by desertion--would force its wayunbidden to his mind. Still, he had determined to throw aside reserve inhonour of the occasion, and he made heroic efforts to appear happy and gay.
Redwald was at his ease, as usual in all company, and seemed to causeprodigious laughter as he told his adventures to the younger folk at thebottom of the board. Dark and malign as his demeanour usually was, yethe could affect a light and airy character at times.
"Redwald, my trusty champion," said Edwy, "this is the first campaignthou hast ever
