Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune - BestLightNovel.com
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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 antic.i.p.ate his orders, vile as G.o.dwin, 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 antic.i.p.ated? 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 ma.s.s 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 unblus.h.i.+ng, 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 a.s.sure him of Divine protection.
"I myself have seen the unG.o.dly in great power; and flouris.h.i.+ng 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 unG.o.dly revelry below, and s.n.a.t.c.hes 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?"