by A. D. Crake
a passionatefit of weeping, his royal dignity all forgotten.
"Give him time! give him time, father!" said they all.
"One day; he must then submit, or I must do my duty; I have no choice--none," replied the archbishop.
And the council sadly broke up; but Athelwold sought a private interviewwith Elgiva.
It was the evening of the same day, and the fair Elgiva sat alone in herapartment, into which the westering sun was casting his last beams ofliquid light; tears had stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes, butshe looked beautiful as ever, like the poet's or painter's conception ofthe goddess of love. Around her were numerous evidences of a woman'sdelicate tastes, of tastes too in advance of her day. The harp, whichEdwy had given her the day of their inauspicious union, stood in onecorner of the apartment; richly ornamented manuscripts lay scatteredabout--not, as usual, legends of the saints, and breviaries, but thewritings of the heathen poets, especially those who sang most of love:for she was learned in such lore.
At last the well-known step was heard approaching, and her heart beatviolently. Edwy entered, his face bearing the traces of his mentalstruggle; he threw himself down upon a couch, and did not speak for somefew moments. She arose and stood beside him.
"Edwy, my lord, you are ill at ease."
"I am indeed, Elgiva; oh! if you knew what I have had to endure this day!"
"I know it all, my Edwy; you cannot sacrifice your Elgiva, but she cansacrifice herself."
"Elgiva! what do you mean?"
"You have to choose between your country and your wife; she has made thechoice for you."
Here she strove violently to repress her emotion.
"Elgiva! you shall never go--never, never--it will break my heart."
"It will break mine; but better hearts should break than that civil warshould desolate our country, or that you should be dethroned."
"No more of this, Elgiva; you shall not go, I swear it! come weal orwoe. Are we not man and wife? Have we not ever been faithful to each other?"
"But this dreadful Church, my Edwy, which crushes men's affections andrules their intellects with a giant's strength more fearful than thefabled hammer of Thor. It crushed the sweet mythology of old, with allthat ministered to love, and substituted the shaveling, the nun, themonk; it has no sympathy with poor hearts like ours; it is remorseless,as though it never knew pity or fear. You must yield, my Edwy! we mustyield!"
"I cannot," he said; "we will fly the throne together."
"But where would you go? this Church is everywhere; who would receive anexcommunicate man?"
"I cannot help it, Elgiva; say no more, it maddens me. Talk of our earlydays, before this dark shadow fell upon us."
She took up her harp, as if, like David, she could thereby soothe theperturbed spirit; but its sweet sounds woke no answer in his breast, andso the night came upon them--night upon the earth, night upon their souls.
Early in the morning she rose, strong in a woman's affection, while Edwyyet slept, and hastily arrayed herself; she looked around at her poorhousehold gods, at the harp, at the many tokens of his love.
"It is for him!" she said. She imprinted her last kiss on his sleepingforehead, she gazed upon him with fond, fond love; love had been herall, her heaven: and then she opened the door noiselessly.
Athelwold waited without.
"Well done, noble girl!" he said; "thou keepest thy word right faithfully."
She strove to speak, but could not; her pale bloodless lips would notframe the words. Silently they descended the stairs; the dawn reddenedthe sky; a horse with a lady's equipments waited without, and a guide.
The old thane slipped a purse of gold into her hands.
"You will need it," he said. "Where are you going? you have not told us."
"It is better none should know," she said; "I will decide my route whenwithout the city."
They never heard of her again.[xxxii]
When Edwy awoke and found her gone he was at first frantic, and sentmessengers in all directions to bring her back; but when one afteranother came back unsuccessful, he accepted the heroic sacrifice andsubmitted.
Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, butMercia was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful kingnorth of the Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy himself.
CHAPTER XXV. "FOR EVER WITH THE LORD."
Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall ofAescendune and the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958had well-nigh ended. During the interval, a long and hard winter hadgrievously tried the shattered constitution of Elfric. He had recoveredfrom the fever and the effects of his wound in a few weeks, yet onlypartially recovered, for the severe shock had permanently injured hisonce strong health, and ominous symptoms showed themselves early in thewinter. His breathing became oppressed, he complained of pains in thechest, and seemed to suffer after any exertion.
These symptoms continued to increase in gravity, until his friends werereluctantly compelled to recognise the symptoms of that insidiousdisease, so often fatal in our English climate, which we now callconsumption.
It was long before they would admit as much; but when they saw howacutely he suffered in the cold frosts; how he, who had once beenforemost in every manly exercise, was compelled to forego the hunt, andto allow his brother to traverse the woods and enjoy the pleasures ofthe chase without him; how he sought the fireside and shivered at theleast draught; how a dry painful cough continually shook his frame, theycould no longer disguise the fact that his days on earth might be verysoon ended.
There was one fact which astonished them. Although he had returned withavidity to all the devotional habits in which he had been trained, yethe always expressed himself unfit to receive the Holy Communion, anddelayed to make that formal confession of his sins, which the religioushabits of the age imposed on every penitent.
Once or twice his fond mother, anxious for his spiritual welfare,pressed this duty upon him; and Alfred, whom he loved, as well he might,most dearly, urged the same thing, yet he always evaded the subject, or,when pressed, replied that he fully meant to do so; in short, it was amatter of daily preparation, but he could not come to be shriven yet.
When the winter at last yielded, and the bright spring sun spoke of theresurrection, when Lent was over, they hoped at least to see him makehis Easter communion, and their evident anxiety upon the subject at lastbrought from him the avowal of the motives which actuated his conduct.
It was Easter Eve, and Alfred had enticed him out to enjoy the balmy airof a bright April afternoon. Close by the path they took, the hall wasrapidly rising to more than its former beauty, for not only had thetheows and ceorls all shown great alacrity in the work, but all theneighbouring thanes had lent their aid.
"It will be more beautiful than ever," said Alfred, "but not quite sohomelike. Still, when you come of age, Elfric, it will be a happy homefor you."
"It will never be my home, Alfred."
"You must not speak so despondently. The bright springtide will soonrestore all your former health and vigour."
"No, Alfred, no; the only home I look for is one where my poor shatteredframe will indeed recover its vigour, but it will not be the vigour orbeauty of this world. Do you remember the lines Father Cuthbert taughtus the other night?
"'Oh, how glorious and resplendent,Fragile body, shalt thou be,When endued with so much beauty,Full of health, and strong and free,Full of vigour, full of pleasure.That shall last eternally.'
"It will not be of earth, though, my brother."
Alfred was silent; his emotions threatened to overcome him. He could notbear to think that he should lose Elfric, although the conviction wasgradually forcing itself upon them all.
"Alfred," continued the patient, "it is of no use deceiving ourselves. Ihave often thought it hard to leave this beautiful world, for it isbeautiful after all, and to leave you who have almost given your lifefor me, and dear mother, little Edgitha, and Fath
er Cuthbert; but God'sWill must be done, and what He wills must be best for us. No; thisbright Easter tide is the last I shall see on earth; but did not FatherCuthbert say that heaven is an eternal Easter?"
So the repentant prodigal spoke, according to the lessons the Church hadtaught him. Superstitious in many points that Church of our forefathersmay have been, yet how much living faith had its home therein will neverbe fully known till the judgment.
"And when I look at that castle," Elfric continued, "our own hall ofAescendune, rising from its ashes, I picture to myself how you willmarry some day and be happy there; how our dear mother will see yourchildren growing up around her knee, and teach them as she taught youand me; how, perhaps, you will name one after me, and there shall beanother Elfric, gay and happy as the old one, but, I hope, ten times asgood;
