Part 31 (1/2)

Eastertide, 1016.--

We have received strange news. Ethelred is dying. He has summoned his son. The tidings reached Edmund here. He had only been with us a single day, and was about to depart again for the war, for Canute threatens to attack London. It is there Ethelred lies sick unto death. Edmund seemed more moved than I should have expected. He has departed in all haste, taking Alfgar with him.

CHAPTER XIX. THE ROYAL DEATHBED.

It was the evening of a stormy day in April when a band of five hundred men, well armed and equipped, were seen approaching the Moor Gate of London. Their leader rode in front, a stalwart warrior, whose eagle eye and dauntless brow told of one born to command. By his side rode a younger warrior, yet one who had nearly reached the prime of life, and who bore the traces of a life of warfare most legibly stamped upon him. There was this difference between them, that men would have recognised the elder at once as an Englishman, while the younger had all the outward physiognomy of a Dane.

”Look, Alfgar, and see whether you can see the flag of Wess.e.x floating over the gates; your eyes are better than mine,” said the elder to his companion.

”I can barely see through the driving rain and darkening sky, but I think I discern the royal banner.”

”Then the city yet holds out, and Canute has not arrived. We are yet in time.”

”The messenger said that their s.h.i.+ps could not ascend the river while the west wind blew, and it is blowing hard enough tonight.”

”Well, when they come they may find London a hard nut even for Canute to crack. The citizens of London are true as steel.”

”See, we are espied, and they man the gates.”

”Doubtless they think Canute is approaching. Ride rapidly, we shall soon undeceive them.”

They rode within bow shot of the gates, which were closed, and there they paused, for a score of bowmen held their shafts to their ears. Edmund, for our readers have long recognised him, bade his forces halt, and advanced alone, with Alfgar, holding up his hand in sign of peace.

”What, ho! men of London,” he cried, ”do you not recognise Edmund the Etheling?”

A joyous cry of recognition burst forth, the gates were thrown open in a minute, and as Edmund, followed by his train, rode in, cries of welcome and exultation burst forth on all sides, while women and children, sharing the general joy, kissed even the hem of his mantle.

Well they might, for their need was sore. Canute was near, his s.h.i.+ps had been seen entering the Thames, and his determination to take the city, which had so often resisted the Danish arms, had been freely and frankly expressed.

”Ah, well you know me, my countrymen, for a true Englishman!-- one in whose veins your blood flows, and who will be only too happy to fight the Danish wolves at your head.”

The cry, ”Long live the Etheling Edmund!” had wakened the city, and the narrow tortuous streets were becoming thronged by the crowd, so that their farther progress threatened to be slow. Edmund perceived this, and, turning to the captain of the guard, inquired anxiously:

”How fares the king, my father?”

”They say he is at death's door,” was the reply.

”Then I may not tarry, good people. All thanks for your welcome, which I hope I may live to repay, but just now my place is by my father's side. I may not now delay till I come to him.”

So the people made way without discontinuing their acclamations, and Edmund and his train rode on till they reached the precincts of St. Paul's cathedral church. Night was now coming on apace, amidst showers of rain and hail, and gusts of wind, which caused the wooden spire to rock visibly. Here and there faint lights twinkled through the open doors, where people could be dimly seen on their knees.

”They pray for the king,” whispered an officer of the guard who rode by the side of the prince. ”The bishop Elfhelm has gone forth with the viatic.u.m.”

Edmund replied not, but hurried his pace as he gazed at the darkening outlines of the rude structure, which stood within the outer walls, yet remaining, of the temple of Diana, which in Roman times had occupied the same spot.

They descended the hill towards the Fleet, but paused while yet within the walls. The ancient palace without the gates had been long since burned by the Danes in one of their various attempts to take the city, and the court had occupied a large palace, if such it could be called, once belonging to a powerful n.o.ble who had perished in one of the sanguinary battles of the time.

The outer portal stood open, but sentinels of the hus-carles were posted thereat, who at once came forward as Edmund paused at the gate.