Part 22 (1/2)
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.