Soft and downy was the bed in the bower chamber to which Egwina had been
assigned, and grateful was it to the weary maiden, who was soon fast
asleep.
It seemed to her that she had slept but a short time when something
awakened her. She lay quite still trying to determine what it could be,
and hearing only the soughing of the wind.
Suddenly, she felt her hand taken softly, and the sapphire ring which
Ethelfleda had given her was gently withdrawn from her finger. For a
moment the girl thought that she must be dreaming, and quickly clasped
her right hand over the left. The ring was in truth gone. She grew numb
with fear as the fact dawned upon her. There was a thief in the room.
Her heart almost stopped its beating, and then began to throb fast. Was
it one of the monks? No, no; they were too good, too kind for that! It
must be, it was AElfric the juggler, who had joined them on their
journey. Had he not looked covetously upon the jewel? At this moment she
heard the thief moving quietly toward the door. The sound broke the
spell that held her. It was too dark for her to see anything, but she
sprang from the bed shrieking:
"Grandfather! grandfather! Awake! awake!"
There was a muttered ejaculation from the intruder. He turned, bounded
back toward her and felled her, with a blow; then, as Wulfhere ran into
the room, dashed from the house.
"Egwina! Egwina!" called the harper in alarm. "What is it? What hath
befallen thee?"
There was no response, and in trying to reach the couch, he stumbled
over the body of the girl.
"My child! My child!" broke from his lips in agonized accents as he
recognized Egwina's form by the feel of her garments and hair. "What
hath happened to thee, little one?"
Still there came no reply, and almost crazed by the darkness and the
silence, Wulfhere ran across the courtyard and began to pound with all
his might upon the portals of the convent, calling upon the abbot as he
did so.
"What hath happened?" cried the abbot from within in response to the
clamor. "Why rouse ye reverend men from needed slumber?"
"Because," cried Wulfhere, frantically, "something hath befallen my
child. I know not what evil hath been wrought, but only that she lieth
dead or in a swoon. For the love of heaven, good father, open unto me!"
There was a rattle of chains, and then the door swung back, and the old
man was surrounded by the monks.
"What is it, son?" demanded the abbot.
"I know not," cried Wulfhere, "save only that Egwina cried out to me in
terror. Now lies she there, and whether she be quick or dead I wot not.
Come!"
The abbot was quick to act.
"A leech and herbs," he commanded. Without further parley, he ran
rapidly with Wulfhere to the guest-house, the monks following.
Egwina still lay unconscious on the floor. The abbot and Wulfhere
stroked her hands while the leech applied various restoratives. Soon the
maiden showed signs of returning consciousness, and the leech gave her a
drink which he prepared from the herbs. In a short time she had so far
recovered as to be able to tell her story.
"And see, granther," she concluded, "the ring that the maiden gave me
hath been taken."
Wulfhere uttered an exclamation as a sudden thought struck him, and he
sprang to his feet. "AElfric! Where is AElfric?"
Several of the monks started in search of him, but no juggler could be
found.
"'Tis he who hath done this!" cried Wulfhere.
"Hast thou lost aught of other treasure?" asked the abbot. "If his
purpose were robbery, methinks that he would have deprived thee also of
booty."
Wulfhere drew from under his tunic the pouch that he always carried
strapped about his waist, and from it took a bag.
"By the bones of the holy Cuthbert," he exclaimed, "it is empty!"
And so, indeed, it proved. The gold, silver, and copper coins, and gems
which had been given him, were all gone. With a groan the old man let
the bag fall to the floor.
"Courage, man!" cried the abbot. "Thou hast not time to moan. Already
hath the first cock crowed for sun-rising. 'Twill be but a short time
ere morning dawns, and then we will seek the niddering. We will loose
the hounds upon his track, and though he have a few hours the best of
us, natheless we shall o'ertake him."
So, in the early morning, Wulfhere and a small party of monks on
palfreys set forth from the convent. Hounds of the best English breed so
famed at this time were let loose upon the trail. It was not until late
in the afternoon that the man-hunt was brought to a close.
Then the hounds gathered round some alders in which AElfric lay
concealed. He was soon dislodged from his covert, and, seeing that
resistance was useless, suffered himself to be led back to the
monastery.
"Brother," said Wulfhere to him, more in sorrow than in anger, "I knew
not before that a gleeman would deal with another as a pagan might." But
AElfric answered not a word.
A report of the matter was laid before the sciregerefa, the reeve or
sheriff of the county, and Wulfhere, Egwina, the abbot, and such of the
monks that knew of the affair, were summoned before him.
In the presence of this man, the bishop, and the ealdorman, Wulfhere
accused the juggler of the theft.
"In the Lord," said he, "do I urge this accusation with full right, and
without fiction, deceit, or any fraud; so from me was stolen the gold
and gems which my craft had brought me, and of this do I complain. Also
from my granddaughter was taken a ring. These things were found again
with AElfric the juggler."
Then the gerefa proceeded to examine the several persons. AElfric looked
upon Egwina with aversion as the maiden gave her simple account of the
loss of her ring and the subsequent occurrences.
"I know no more," concluded she, "for when I called aloud to my
grandfather, the man did strike me, and I fell into a swound."
"And this is the man?" inquired the gerefa. "Marry! Is it thus that a
Saxon demeans himself?"
"Nay," said Egwina, sweetly, "I would not take oath that it was he, good
gerefa; for it was dark, and I could not see. Mayhap he meant only to
affright me."
The gerefa, the ealdorman, and even the bishop smiled at this artless
attempt to shield the fellow.
"He doth not deserve thy pity, maiden," said the sheriff gently. "I
misdoubt not that he is the man sith the booty was found upon him. Thou
needst say no more."
Egwina sat down by her grandfather while the abbot and the monks
deposed. Then the reeve turned to the juggler:
"AElfric, by these witnesses thou hast been proven to have taken the
ring belonging to the maiden, and the coin and gems of the bard. Hast
thou aught to answer for thyself? Why didst thou this thing? Is it not
enow for the Northmen to pillage our people that they must prey upon
each other?"
AElfric was silent for a moment, and then raised his head defiantly.
"Naught can be gained by saying that I did it not, for ye have proved
it. AElfric did rob the old man of his gold, and the girl of her ring.
Will ye know why? They were mine by right. Ye have dooms by which a man
must pay bot if he wrong his neighbor by theft or feud; but no weregeld
must he pay that takes from another his trade. Yet is not that an
injury? This then have the scop and the maiden done to me: 'twas in the
market at Winchester that I played with my balls and knives. The people
cried up the act for they were pleased. Then, before it was time for the
giving of the gifts, did this harper and his daughter come. They sang,
and the throng left me. Have they not robbed me? I took that which was
mine own. Had they but waited until the distribution of gifts, naught
would have befallen them. I have said."
He sat down as he spake, and a silence fell upon the company. Such a
plea was unusual. There was a puzzled look upon the faces of the
ealdorman and the bishop. Soon the gerefa spake:
"Natheless, AElfric, the mulct must be paid. Little did the harper and
his daughter reck that they took gifts from thee. It was but a whim of
fortune, and doth not condone thy fault. Thou knowest the doom. Canst
pay thy weregeld?"
AElfric shook his head sullenly.
"Then hast thou kindred who will pay it for thee?"
But the juggler clasped his hands.
"There is none," cried he, "that is sibbe to me. Do to me as ye will for
none is there to pay the bot."
"If thou canst not pay thy weregeld," said the reeve, "and there is no
man to pay it for thee, then must thou become a wite theow according to
the doom; for thus doth it read: 'If anyone through conviction of theft
forfeit his freedom, and deliver himself up and his kindred forsake him,
and he know not who shall make bot for him; let him then be worthy of
theowe-work which thereunto appertaineth; and let the were abate from
his kindred.' Thus shalt thou be given unto a lord for his theow, and if
any there be who choose to redeem thee, then let him come forward before
the year hath passed; else serfdom must be thy portion for life."
The juggler advanced and laying down his sword and his spear, symbols of
the free, took up the bill and the goad, the implements of slavery, and
falling on his knees placed his head under the hand of the gerefa.
"Oh!" cried Egwina pityingly, her eyes full of tears. "A theowe! Nay,
granther, it must not be! Prithee, give to the reeve the weregeld. I
would not that he be made a wite through us. Is he not a gleeman?"
"True;" answered Wulfhere, "and a Saxon also. It is just. He hath
committed a crime against the doom of the land; according to the doom
let him be judged. Come, child, put on thy ring again, and let us be
going. Too long have we tarried already with the good monks. The Wind
month cometh on apace, and ere it wanes, I would be in Alfred's vill.
Come!"
He arose as he spake, but, moved by an irresistible impulse, Egwina
sprang to the side of AElfric.
"Sorry am I and grieved," she said, gently laying her hand on his arm,
"that we have brought thee to this pass. Take heart! It may be that
grandfather will let me have some of the gifts, and if so I will send
them to thee to pay thy were. We knew not in the market that thou hadst
received no gifts."
But AElfric shook her hand from his arm roughly, and turned on her with
hate in his eyes.
"Thinkest thou that thy father alone could have taken them from me? No;
it is thou that art to blame! Had it not been for thy fair face AElfric
would have received his gifts. Wulfhere is old! No longer hath he power
to charm by his harp and voice, so he uses thy beauty to drive a better
man from the field. Wulfhere did it not! It is thou who hath done this!"
Egwina shrank back affrighted. Wulfhere strode forward, his face white
with passion.
"What! Tauntest thou a girl? It is best for thy weal an thou art a theow
else Wulfhere would make thee pay thy weregeld twice over. Wulfhere may
have lost his power as harper, but strong yet is his right arm and
mighty its stroke."
"Marry, son," interposed the abbot. "Be not wroth with such as he! Thou
demeanest thyself."
"True;" said the harper recovering himself, "what hath Wulfhere to do
with a niddering?"
At that term of reproach which no Saxon could hear unmoved, AElfric
sprang forward, his face convulsed with rage, his hand upraised. The
gerefa and the abbot seized him before the blow fell.
"Niddering?" he shrieked. "AElfric niddering! As ye be Saxons let me at
him!"
But they would not, and, as they led him away, he called back in a loud
voice:
"By all the saints, I swear that AElfric shall be revenged. As I am now
so shall ye be! Look to yourselves, Wulfhere, and thou, daughter of
Wulfhere! For every hour spent as theow, ye shall have double. For every
task assigned, two shall be your portion. The rod and the lash shall not
be wanting. I swear it! Lead on; I have spoken!"
Egwina paled and trembled at the words, but the old man laughed.
"Heed him not," he said. "Doth not the beast growl when foiled? What
harm can befall us if we are in the king's hand? Come!"