Part 4 (2/2)

The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the room, one whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe.

He was dressed in the Benedictine habit, just then becoming common in England, and his features were those of a man formed by nature to command, while they reconciled the beholder to the admission of the fact by the sad yet sweet smile which frequently played on the shapely countenance. He was now in the thirtieth year of his age, having been born in the first year of King Athelstane, and had been abbot of Glas...o...b..ry for several years, although his services as counsellor to King Edred had led him to spend much of his time in town, and he had therefore accepted the general direction of the education of the heir to the throne. Such was Dunstan.

He seemed but little welcome to Edwy, and the benediction with which he greeted his pupil was but coldly received.

Not appearing to notice this, he mildly said, ”You must introduce your young companion to me, my prince. Am I not right in concluding that I see before me Elfric, heir to the lands of Aescendune?”

Elfric blushed as he bent the knee to the great churchman to receive the priestly benediction with which he was greeted, but remained silent.

”Father Cuthbert, whom I knew well years agone, has told me about you, and your brother Alfred; is not that his name?”

”He is so named, my father.”

”I am glad to perceive that my royal pupil has chosen so meet a companion, for Father Cuthbert speaks well of your learning. You write the Latin tongue, he tells me, with some little facility.”

Elfric feared his powers had been overrated.

”I trust you have resumed your studies after your long holiday,”

continued Dunstan. ”Youth is the season for sowing, age for reaping.”

”I have had a very bad headache,” said Edwy, ”and have only been able to write a page of Latin. Here it is, father.”

And he extended the exercise Elfric had written to the abbot, who looked at the writing for one moment, and then glanced severely at the prince.

The character was very like his own, but there was a difference.

”Is this your handwriting, Prince Edwy?” he asked.

”Of course. Elfric saw me write it, did you not?”

Elfric was not used to falsehood; he could not frame his lips to say ”Yes.”

Dunstan observed his confusion, and he turned to the prince with a look in which contempt seemed to struggle with pa.s.sive self-possession.

”I trust, Edwy,” he said, ”you will remember that the word of a king is said to be his bond, and so should the word of a prince be if he ever hopes to reign. I shall give Father Benedict charge to superintend your studies as usual.”

He wished them a grave good morning, and left the room.

As soon as the last sound of his steps had ceased, Edwy turned sharply to Elfric--”Why did you not say yes at once? Surely you have a tongue?”

”It has never learnt to lie.”

”Pooh! What is the harm of such a white lie as that would have been? If you cannot give the credit of a Latin exercise, which you happen to have written, to your future king, you must be selfish; it is my writing, if you give it me, isn't it?”

Elfric did not quite see the matter in that light, yet did not care to dispute the point; but his conscience was ill at ease, and he was glad to change the subject.

”When can we go out?” he said, for he was anxious to see the city.

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