For a short time after this the days of Egwina were peaceful. Adiva
petted and coddled her as only good motherly women can do, and the
maiden felt that at last she had found a haven of rest, for weary was
she of wandering.
"Never again shalt thou leave us, little one," declared Adiva, one day,
as she and the maiden employed themselves as in the olden days with
shuttle and distaff. "Never again! Thou shouldst not have left us at
all, for thou didst first belong to us. Did not Denewulf find thee in
the forest? Now thou shalt remain always."
"But the king?" said Egwina, bending low over her work. "Doth he not
visit thee, Adiva--he or some of his family?"
"Well-a-day, yes," answered Adiva. "What of it, child? Couldst thou not
stay out of the way until they had departed? 'Tis not as in the forest.
Then there was but the two rooms. Wottest thou not that the manor of the
bishop hath more?"
Egwina laughed with something of her old brightness.
"There!" cried the good woman, delightedly, "gladness doth it bring to
my heart to hear thee laugh like that! Laugh an' thou wilt, even though
it be at my foolish pride. 'Tis something better to be the wife of a
bishop than of a swineherd, is it not?"
"But still he is the same, Adiva, swineherd or bishop," said the maiden.
"What doth it matter what he doeth? 'Tis the man whom thou hast wed."
"Thou art young," remarked Adiva, with an upward lift of the head.
"Wisdom thou wilt acquire as thou growest older. Denewulf was good enow
as a husband when a swineherd, but few were the mancuses and pence that
came our way. Now doth he wear the bishop's stole and all bow down to
him. Well-a-day, child! It doth make a difference. But thou hast not yet
said that them wouldst stay with me. To tell the truth," she lowered her
voice, "there are times when lonely I be in spite of greatness."
"If it will please thee, then will it please me," answered the maiden.
"Weary am I of wandering, and fain would I dwell where friends abide, if
it so be that I may not see the king nor Edward. It hath seemed to me of
late, Adiva, that in some way I should show my gratitude to God for His
mercy to me. Some service would I render Him for His judgment. Why,
Adiva, when I think that there was not even a scar, I wonder what I have
done that so great a favor should be shown me."
"Trouble not thy head about it," said the dame, hastily. "Oft have I
heard that such things were past finding out. Why, Denewulf, bishop
though he be, wottest not the why of many things!"
"The maiden is right," said Denewulf, entering at this moment. "I, too,
Egwina, have thought of the miracle, for such it was, and it hath seemed
to me that thou wert spared that thou mightest give Him thy service. To
chaste and holy Mary thy life should belong. Thou seekest repose, my
child; find it in the cloister."
"The cloister!" Adiva threw up her arms in dismay. "Yon pretty child?
Denewulf, what aileth thee?"
"Naught," answered the bishop, promptly. "Naught but desire for the best
for Egwina. Wonderfully hath she been favored. It can be for naught else
than that she should devote her life to the service of Heaven."
"Denewulf, hast thou gone daft?" demanded Adiva, with some asperity.
"Egwina a nun? I trow not!"
"But, Adiva," said the gentle voice of Egwina, "why have I been so
favored? Not even a scar, as thou knowest, nor mark of any kind. I felt
that God would show mine innocence, but so marked was His favor that it
hath troubled me to know the cause. It may be that for this service was
I thus favored."
"And dost thou think of becoming a nun?" cried the dame, in
consternation.
"If Denewulf thinketh best, and that for this cause was the miracle
performed, I will so do," answered the maiden.
"It hath weighed upon my mind," said the bishop, "and it doth seem to
me, Egwina, that it hath been intended by that sign that thou shouldst
become the bride of the church."
"Out upon such nonsense!" exclaimed the dame, with energy. "No miracle
was there save only what I, with the help of thy foster-mother,
Gunnehilde, worked."
"Adiva!" exclaimed both Egwina and the bishop in a breath. "What meanest
thou?"
"I mean," said the dame, "that I was not willing to have thy pretty arm
seared, so I sent to Gunnehilde, and she concocted me a lotion. Every
night did I bathe hand and arm. The last night, child, the salve which
thou didst find me using was but the final touch. Already the lotion had
done its work, and thou mightest have carried red-hot iron thy nine feet
and back, and no scar would there have been. Out upon it for a miracle!"
"Woman! thou hast profaned the judgment of the Supreme One," said her
husband, sternly, while Egwina sank back overcome.
"Profaned? Not at all," answered the dame, defiantly. "Did it not bring
the guilty to punishment? The woman confessed, and the juggler is even
now upon his pilgrimage. Egwina was shown innocent--as she was. How,
then, have I profaned the judgment?"
"Thou must do penance," said Denewulf.
"Penance?" retorted Adiva. "Not I. What good doth it do me to be a
bishop's wife if I am to do penance as an ordinary body? Keep thy
penance for such as need them, Denewulf."
"But mine innocence?" cried poor Egwina. "Happy have I been to think
that God did stoop to so favor me."
"Now, more than ever, do I think that thou shouldst enter the cloister,"
said the bishop. "'Tis true that the guilty were brought to punishment
and thy innocence proven; but what if the ealdorman, the gerefa, and the
people knew of this. Thinkest thou that they would think it just?
Either, my child, thou must again take the ordeal or thou must retire to
the cloister. I see naught else to be done," and he left the room.
"Thou to the nunnery?" cried the dame, indignantly. "Well-a-day! We
shall see, my lord bishop. Neither ordeal nor cloister shall there be
for my pretty one!"
"But, Adiva, I see that it must be as he saith," said Egwina. "Naught is
left for me."
"Is there not, child? Again did I ask Gunnehilde of thy dream. Greatness
is to be thy portion, and thou shalt not spoil the web woven for thee by
this thing. A nunnery for thee, who art destined for the bride of
Edward? I trow not! Before that shall happen, Edward himself shall be
sent for, and then we shall see."
"Oh, dear Adiva, thou must not do that," cried Egwina, distressed.
"If thou dost not as I tell thee," said Adiva, with determination
written on her brow, "both the king and Edward will I send for."
"I will! I will!" cried Egwina, hastily. "Whatever thou dost say that
will I do, if only, dear friend, thou wilt not send for them. Gladly
would I look upon their faces unknown of them, but I durst not speak
with the king. I could not bear for him to look on me with coldness."
"We will wait for a few days," said Adiva, "and see whether Denewulf
still thinketh the same. If he doth, then will I tell thee what to do.
If I can o'ersuade him from such thing, then thou shalt remain with me,
and naught will there be to do."
But Denewulf could not be persuaded from his idea. The honest Saxon
desired only to do justice, and to his upright sense of honor this
ordeal had been a failure. Only could his conscience be satisfied by a
repetition of the ordeal or a retirement to the cloister.
On the other hand, Egwina, actuated by the same delicate sense of honor,
was overwhelmed with fear lest Adiva should send for Alfred and Edward
as she had threatened. Finding that Egwina inclined more and more to
Denewulf's way of thinking, and that Denewulf was obdurate, the good
dame took matters into her own hands.
"Come!" said she to Egwina one day. "Thou shalt go with me this morning
to see Gunnehilde. Rememberest thou that time we went through the forest
to have her read thy rede for thee? Again will we go."
"But not for reading of rune or rede," pleaded the maiden. "Sick at
heart doth it make me, for it bringeth Gyda to my mind."
"No rune shall she read thee, child, though I would that thou wouldst
let her. Then would she show thee that thou art destined to sit beside
Edward."
"Speak not so, Adiva," said the maiden. "Henceforth I renounce all faith
in seid and galdra. Of peril they do not warn; neither keep they from
sin. I will seek no more to pierce that veil by which an all-wise Father
hides the future from our gaze. It bringeth naught but evil."
"Well, well, do as thou wishest," grumbled the dame. "For my part, I
find that it harms me not to be guided by Gunnehilde, and rare is she as
a compounder of herbs. Here we are, child. Thou seest that we have
brought the vala with us, for Denewulf, though he believeth not in her
craft, wisheth her near him."
Gunnehilde greeted them with warmth. To Egwina she accorded a respect
and deference that confused the maiden, who could not but see what
thoughts were in her mind.
"Come ye to consult the runes?" she asked, "or upon the matter of which
thou spakest, Adiva?"
"Upon the matter," returned Adiva. "Egwina will have naught more to do
with runes or rede. Therefore haste we to the other affair."
"She hath no need," replied the vala. "Skulda hath woven the web and
golden is its woof. Fear not, maiden, Verdandi striveth to weave dark
threads among the gold, but already do they begin to brighten. Speed
thou on thy way. Skulda holdeth the shuttle."
Egwina answered not. The remembrance of Gyda was still too strong upon
her for her to listen without a shudder to the woman's prophecies.
Gunnehilde saw the repugnance in her face, and turned to the bishop's
wife.
"The cart is ready at thy bidding, Adiva. Whenever thou shalt say, then
shall Beorn take the maiden to my brother's, Anlaf the black."
"What dost thou mean?" cried Egwina. "Where do I go? Adiva, what is it?"
"My child, thou didst promise thou wouldst do as I bade thee should
Denewulf remain obdurate in his purpose to have thee enter a convent.
Thou wottest how set he is in his design. Without thy consent thou canst
not, of course, be made to enter one, but I fear that he will o'ersuade
thee. Therefore I deem it best that thou shouldst retire for a little
while into East Anglia where Anlaf the black, brother to Gunnehilde,
abides. There shalt thou stay until such time as Denewulf will have
given over his design. Then thou canst return to me, and never shalt
thou leave me until Edward takes thee."
"Adiva," said the maiden, distressed, "it cannot be. It will never be as
thou seemeth to think. Dwell not on such hopes for they are vain. I feel
with Denewulf that it is meet and fitting that I should retire into a
nunnery. Oppose me no longer, Adiva. It is best."
"It is not best," cried the dame. "If it so be that Edward doth not wed
with thee, yet still thou shalt not be hidden in the cloister. Thou wilt
go with the man to Anlaf's, wilt thou not? Thou must, Egwina, else I
will send for the king and lay the whole matter before him."
"Thou wottest that I will do as thou sayest, Adiva, when thou dost make
such threat. To please thee, then, and to keep thee from sending for the
king, I will go into East Anglia and for a time give up the thought of
the cloister. Anon I will take it up."
So Egwina found herself bundled into a cart and on the way to East
Anglia to the house of Anlaf the black.