Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune

  CHAPTER XXII. SMOOTHER THAN OIL.

  It was the latter end of November, and St. Andrew's day drew near,when a small but select party of friends met together in an oldmansion hard by St. Frideswide's Cathedral, at Oxenford, to enjoy theevening banquet.

  First and foremost was the king of Southern England, the valiantIronside, and his attendant and friend Alfgar; Elfwyn and FatherCuthbert from Aescendune, with the Lady Hilda and Ethelgiva; Herstan,his wife Bertha, and son Hermann, from Clifton, with his sisters; andEthelm, the new bishop of Dorchester, the successor of the martyredEdnoth.

  These, our old acquaintances, had all been gathered together in viewof the approaching union of Alfgar with Ethelgiva, which was to besolemnised on St. Andrew's day, in the presence of the king. They werea happy party; all the woes of the past seemed forgotten in the happypresent, or were only remembered in the spirit of the well-known line:

  "Haec olim meminisse juvabit."

  The more substantial viands were removed, generous wines from warmerclimes were introduced, but there was no need of a harper or ofminstrels, save Edmund himself, or of legends and tales to those whoselives had passed amidst scenes of excitement. They were such as makehistory for future generations.

  "How the wind howls without tonight!" observed Edmund; "it makes onevalue the blessing of a quiet home and a cheerful fireside. How often,Alfgar, have you and I lain on such nights under the shelter of acanvas tent, or even of a bush."

  "Often, indeed, my liege; but those days are gone, perhaps for ever."

  "They had their joys, nevertheless. There is something in a life ofadventure which warms the blood and makes time pass swiftly; mygoodwife and I sometimes tire of each other's company, as I expectEthelgiva and you will in time."

  "Never!" said Alfgar, so fervently that there was a general smile.

  "Well, time will show; meanwhile, how is the new hall at Aescendunegetting on, Elfwyn?"

  "It will be ready by next spring; then the young people must make ittheir home. Our home in the woods has proved a shelter to us throughsuch troublous days that Hilda and I are loath to leave it. But,meanwhile, they must live with us."

  "And how about the priory?"

  "It will be ready before the hall."

  "That is well," observed the bishop, "and as it should be--God'shouse first, and then man's."

  "Well, Hermann," said Edmund, addressing his young friend, whosecareer in arms he had closely watched since the attack upon the hallat Clifton, "how do you like the prospect of a long peace?"

  "A peaceful life has its delights," replied Hermann, "but war has alsoits charms."

  "Well, thou hast passed unscathed through five great battles, or atleast without any serious wound; but remember all are not sofortunate, and many a poor cripple sighs over Penn, Sherston,Brentford, Otford, or Assingdun."

  "The excitement of war blinds one to the risk."

  "So it should, or there would be no war at all. What does my fatherthe bishop think of the matter?"

  "That wars are necessary evils, only justifiable when fighting, asyou, my lord, have done, for home and altar, but they are no truechildren of the Prince of Peace who delight in bloodshed and strife."

  Edmund pondered.

  "And yet I fear I must plead guilty of delighting in a gallant charge.It stirs the blood, till it flows like fire in the veins. The feelingis glorious."

  "Yet not one to be encouraged, save when it enables one to performnecessary deeds of daring for some worthy object, such as holyScripture praises in the heroes of old."

  The conversation now became general. Elfwyn and Herstan talked of theold days of Dunstan; Alfgar and Hermann of the events of the recentwar; the good bishop and Father Cuthbert on ecclesiastical topics; theladies upon some question of dresses and embroidery for theapproaching festivity, which seemed to interest them deeply, when anattendant entered, and approaching the king, whispered a message inhis ear.

  "What! in this house? I will not have it. He knows how hateful hisvery presence must be."

  "Your sister, the Princess Elgitha?"

  "Well, I will see her. No, I will not."

  "It is too late, Edmund. You must see me," said a sweet voice, and alady, attired in mourning weeds, stood beside him. "It is but sevenmonths, Edmund, since we lost our father. Shall his children rend anddevour each other?"

  "I do not want to rend and devour. I am no cannibal; but, Elgitha,your wicked husband--"

  "Stay, Edmund, do not slander the husband before his wife."

  "This is a business! What am I to say? I cannot dissemble, and pretendto love him, were he ten times my brother-in-law."

  "Nor can I ask it," said a deep voice behind, and Edric stood beforeEdmund, his eyes cast down, his hands meekly clasped. "Edmund, I haveoften deeply injured you, and betrayed your confidence."

  "You have indeed."

  "But now I repent me of my wickedness. It burdens me so heavily that,but for your sister, I would retire into a monastery, and there end mydays."

  "It would be the best thing you could do."

  "It would indeed."

  This conference had taken place at the end of the great hall, whichwas a very spacious chamber, and the speakers were separated by ascreen from the company.

  "Edmund," cried his sister, "I see what you will do. You will make mea widow; for Edric cannot live if you refuse him forgiveness. Nightafter night he tosses on his uneasy bed, and wishes that it were day.Surely, Edmund, you have need of forgiveness yourself, yet you refuseto forgive."

  "You preach like a bishop, but--"

  "Well, you have a real bishop here. Call him, and let him judgebetween us."

  Edmund mechanically obeyed, and he called Father Cuthbert also, inwhose judgment he had great faith.

  "What am I to do?" he said. "My country's wounds, inflicted by thisman, yet bleed. Am I to give him the hand of friendship?"

  "I do not deserve it," said Edric, meekly.

  "My lord," said the bishop, gravely, "man may not refuse forgivenessto his fellow worm; but, Edric, hast thou truly repented of thy sinbefore God and his Church?"

  "I have indeed. I have fasted in sackcloth and ashes, I have eaten thebread of affliction."

  "Where?"

  "In my sad retreat, my castle in Mercia."

  "But some public reparation is due. Art thou willing to accept suchpenance as the Church, in consideration of thy perjuries, thy murders,which man may not avenge, since treaties protect thee--but which Godwill surely remember, if thou repent not--to accept such penance, Isay, as the Church shall impose?"

  "I submit myself to your judgment, most reverend father."

  "It shall be duly considered and delivered to thee; and inconsideration of that fact, I think, my lord, you cannot, as aChristian man, refuse to be reconciled."

  "O Edmund, my brother, be merciful!" said Elgitha.

  "I yield," said Edmund, "but not tonight," he said, as Edric stretchedout his hand, reddened by many a dark deed of murder; "tomorrow,before God's altar. I shall be at St. Frideswide's at the early mass."

  And he returned to the company.

  A cloud was evidently on his spirits that night, which did not wearoff the rest of the evening. The party separated at what would now becalled an early hour. The bishop and Father Cuthbert lodged at themonastic house of Osney; Elfwyn, his wife and child, as also Herstan,with his little party, were accommodated in the mansion.

  The chamber occupied by the king was a long roomy place, containing asingle bedstead of carved wood, surmounted by the usual distinctivecanopy, from which tapestried hangings depended, and upon whichscriptural subjects were woven; the furniture of the room partook ofthe usual meagreness of the times. The entrance was through a smallantechamber, wherein, on a humbler bedstead, Alfgar slept. Both roomswere hung with tapestry, which concealed rough walls, such as abuilder would blush to own as his handiwork in these luxurious days.

  Before retiring to rest, Edmund turned with much affection to hisattendant.

>   "Alfgar, I have promised to forgive our enemy."

  "Edric Streorn?"

  Alfgar added no more.

  "Couldst thou forgive him?"

  "I would try."

  "His hand is red with blood. Think of Sigeferth, of Morcar, ofElfhelm, nay, of a hundred others; then think not how he has plottedagainst my life, but how he made my own father hate and disown me;while he, the pampered favourite, swayed all the councils and betrayedthe land. O Alfgar! couldst thou forgive him?"

  "He plotted against my life and my honour, too," said Alfgar, "andstrove to deprive me of both; yet I am too happy now to harbourrevenge."

  "Well, I meet him at St. Frideswide's tomorrow, and we shall beformally reconciled in the presence of the bishop and his clergy,wherewith I trust he will be content, and not trouble me too oftenwith his presence."

  "Where is he staying now?"

  "I hardly know; but after the reconciliation I must admit him as myguest, for my sister is with him, if he chooses to stay; but I hopethat will not be the case."

  "His ill-omened presence would cast a gloom upon St. Andrew's day."

  "It would indeed; it shall be avoided if possible. And now let uscommend ourselves to the Lord, who died that we might be forgiven.'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass againstus.'"

  And they slept.

  On the morrow before the altar of St. Frideswide, the king and Edrichad their places in the choir.

  One very touching ceremony, handed down from early times, was stillobserved in England--the "kiss of peace," occurring at some periodbefore the close of the canon of the mass, when all the members of thecathedral chapter, or of the choir, as the case might be, solemnlysaluted each other.

  And for this reason Edmund and Edric had been placed next each other.So when this most solemn moment arrived, they looked each other fullin the face, and gave and received the sign of Christian brotherhood.

  After this they both communicated.

  When the holy rite was ended, Edmund invited Edric and Elgitha tobecome his guests.

  Edric knew the old palace well. He had occupied it one well-rememberedseason, during which, in that very banqueting hall where we haveintroduced our readers, Sigeferth and Morcar, the earls of the sevenburghs, were treacherously murdered at the banquet after Edric hadpreviously made them heavy with wine.

  There was the usual gathering that evening. Did Edric remember theplace, and the bloody event which only he and one other presentconnected with the spot?--for Edmund had been far away, and the matterhad been hushed up, as far as was possible, by all the power andinfluence Ethelred could exert in his favourite's cause, or rather hisown, for he, the royal villain, shared the ill-gotten spoil.

  If he did remember it, he took care not to show it that night. He wasas calm and self-possessed as a man could be--as a smiling sea underthe summer sky--smiling so that the heedless voyager knows not whathideous trophies or past storms the smiling depths conceal.

  So was it with this treacherous penitent.

  His presence, however, somewhat chilled the conversation, and theybroke up early; the more so as it was a vigil, the vigil of St.Andrew, and men strictly observed the law of the Church on suchsubjects in those days.

  When he bade Edmund goodnight, Edric said:

  "You cannot tell how true a peace has found its home in my breastsince our reconciliation, which I feel I owe greatly to theintercession of your patron St. Edmund, to whose tomb I made apilgrimage, where I besought this one grace--our reconciliation."

  Edmund thought of the holy thorn; but Edric continued:

  "And you will be glad to hear that the bishop has decided upon mypenance. It is to be a pilgrimage to the Holy Land."

  "I am heartily glad to hear it," said Edmund, speaking the very truth,although he did try to forgive as he hoped to be forgiven.

  And they separated.

  Meanwhile happiness and expectation were high in the breasts of thehappy lovers, Alfgar and Ethelgiva. The morrow was to unite them. Theladies sat up nearly all night making the wedding robes complete, andrichly adorning them--Hilda, Bertha, and Ethelgiva, with many skilfulhandmaidens.

  They had almost finished their task, and were about to separate, whenSt. Frideswide's bell tolled the first hour of the morning (oneo'clock).

  "We are very late," said the lady Hilda, as well she might, for ourancestors generally retired early, as they rose early; and they badeeach other goodnight.

  "Happy, happy Ethelgiva!" said the mother as she kissed her darling,not without a maternal sigh, for she felt as if she were losing heronly child, who had for so many a year been the light of theirwoodland home--her only child, who had filled not simply her own placein their affections, but as far as she might the place of the lovedBertric.

  But the kiss was suspended. The whole party stood silent andbreathless; for a loud and bitter cry, as of one in extreme anguish,broke upon the silence of the night.

  Ethelgiva uttered but one word as she bounded towards the staircase,for she knew the voice:

  "Alfgar!"