Alfgar never saw his beloved lord enter his chamber with a look of
greater weariness than he bore that night.
"It has been a hard fight, old friend," said the familiar king, "but
we have conquered; for my part, I would far sooner have stood out
against him, battle-axe in hand, than have met this struggle, could I
have foreseen it beforehand; but now I have given him the kiss of
peace, peace it must be; he has no more to dread from me."
"Nor you from him, I trust."
"I must trust so, or I should not feel I had really forgiven, and I
cannot give my hand where my heart is not; but yet it was such a
fight. 'Tis easy to stand in the deadly gap and keep the foe from a
beleaguered citadel: men praise the deed, and there is a feeling of
conscious pride which sustains one, but the truly great deeds are
those which no chronicler records. It requires more bravery to forgive
sometimes than to avenge."
"I can well believe that, my lord."
"Well, if my path has been beset with foes, so has it with friends.
Such love as yours, Alfgar, I say as yours has been!--well, few kings
share such affections."
"My lord, you first loved me; at least you saved me from a fearful
death."
"And you have warded off death from me again and again in the
battlefield; nay, deny it not, nor say it was merely your duty, men do
not always do such duty."
"My lord, you praise me more than I can feel I deserve."
"Not more than I feel you deserve, and yet were not this your last
night as my companion, were not tomorrow's ceremony to separate us,
perhaps for ever, I do not think I should thus overwhelm your modesty.
"You blush like a girl," said he, laughingly.
He lingered some time, and seemed loath to undress. At last he said:
"Have you seen the messenger Canute sent me?"
"Yes; I entertained him at the buttery as you requested."
"Well, he came with a proposal from Canute that we should join in
building and endowing a church at Assingdun, where a priest may ever
say mass for the souls of our dead, whether English or Dane. Of course
I have accepted the offer, but Canute added another and more
mysterious message."
"And what was that?"
"'Beware,' he said, 'of Edric; his apparent desire of reconciliation
cannot be trusted;' and he added that Edric was like a certain person
who wanted to become a monk when he was sick."
"I fear he speaks the truth."
"But I cannot act upon his advice; it is too late now. I have striven
to do what I thought, and the bishop said, in his Master's name, was
my duty--well, I have my reward in the approbation of my conscience.
Goodnight, Alfgar, goodnight; I shall sleep soundly tonight; I hope
some day I may lay me down for my last long sleep as peacefully."
Alfgar followed his example, and, commending himself to God, slept.
About half-an-hour after midnight Alfgar awoke with a strange
impression upon his mind that some one was in the room. It was very
dark and stormy, and the wind, finding its way through crevices in the
ill-built house, would account for many noises, but there was
something stirring which was not the wind, and the impression was
strong on his waking senses that between him and the window, which was
opposite his bed, a figure had passed.
Not fully trusting impressions produced at such a moment, yet with a
heavy vague sense of evil weighing him down like a nightmare, Alfgar
lay and listened.
At length he heard a sound which might have been produced by falling
rain percolating through the roof, drop, drop upon the floor, but it
was strange, for there was no sound of rain outside at that moment.
At length a cold draught made him turn his head, and he dimly saw
Edmund's door open and disclose the window within the room, then shut
slowly again.
He could control his apprehensions no longer, and rose gently from his
bed, so as not to warn the foe, on the one hand, should one be
present, or if, as he strove to believe, all was fancy, not to awake
Edmund. No one was in his own little room, that he felt rather than
saw in a moment; but some one might be in Edmund's, and he passed
through the door, which he remembered, with a shudder, was shut firmly
when Edmund said "goodnight." At that instant he heard a low click, as
of a spring lock, but very faintly; hesitating no longer, he passed
into the monarch's room, and advanced to the bedside.
"My lord!" he gently whispered, but there was no answer; he spoke
again in vain.
Just then he felt his naked feet come into contact with some wet
substance, slightly glutinous, on the floor, and shuddered at the
contact. All trembling, he put his hand to the pillow, and drew it
back; it was wet with the same fluid, which his reason and experience
told him was blood. He could hardly refrain from crying for help, but
first sought a light. The process of procuring light then from flint,
steel, and tinder was very slow, and it was some minutes before he had
a taper lighted, when its beams disclosed to his horror-stricken sight
Edmund, weltering in his blood; a dagger had been driven suddenly and
swiftly to his heart, and he had died apparently without a struggle.
The weapon yet remained {xviii}.
Here his affliction and grief overpowered him; he threw himself upon
the body from which he had withdrawn the weapon; he kissed the now
cold lips; he cried, half distracted, "O Edmund, my lord, speak!"
Alas! those lips were never to speak again while time lasted. At
length the first deep emotion passed away, and left the unhappy Alfgar
comparatively master of himself, whereupon he left the chamber, and
cried aloud for help.
It was his cry which the ladies heard in their distant bower.
The piercing cry, "Help! Edmund, the king, is slain!" roused the
household--Elfwyn, Herstan, Hermann, the ladies, agitated beyond
measure; the household guard; and, last of all, Edric.
They beheld Alfgar in his night dress, all bloody, holding a dagger in
his hand, and with his face blanched to a death-like paleness,
uttering cry upon cry.
"Help! Edmund, the king, is slain!"
They (the men) rushed to the chamber, and, passing through Alfgar's
little room, beheld, by the light of many torches, Edmund bathed in
his own blood, which still dripped with monotonous but terrible sound
on the floor.
Edric entered, and with woe, real or affected (no one could tell),
painted in his face, approached the body; and Elfwyn and Herstan
beheld, or thought they beheld, a prodigy: they thought they saw the
eyes open, and regard Edric, and that they saw the blood well up in
the wound. But doubtless this was fancy.
"One thing we all must do," said Edric; "we must all help to find the
murderer. The first step to that effect will be to note all present
appearances. First, where is the weapon?"
"Here," said Alfgar, extending it.
"Why, Alfgar, it is your own dagger," said Elfwyn; "one which he gave
you himself."
Alfgar uttered a plaintive and pitiful cry.
Edric possessed himself of the blood-stained weapon.
"Alfgar," said he, "you must have slept soundly. Tell us what you
heard and saw."
He briefly related the particulars with which the reader is
acquainted.
"But how could they enter? Was your door unfastened?"
"No; it was bolted on the inside, even as I left it last night."
"Bolted on the inside! then they must have entered through the
window," said Edric, noting the words.
"Impossible," said both the thanes; "they are barred, both of
them--heavily barred."
"We can no longer assist our departed lord save by our prayers," said
Edric. "God be thanked, he died friends with me. I shall value the
remembrance of that kiss cf peace in St. Frideswide's so long as I
live. And now I, once his foe, but his friend and avenger now, devote
myself to hunt the murderer. So help me God!"
"So help me God!"
"So help me God!" said all present, one after the other.
"We are then of one heart and soul, and no tie of kindred, no
friendship, shall bar our common action. And now we must rouse the
reeve and burgesses; the gates of the city must be closed, that none
escape. I will send members of the guard to do this, and when they
have assembled we will all take counsel together."
"O Alfgar," whispered Elfwyn, "how came your dagger there?"
"I know not. I feel as one distracted," said the faithful and loving
Alfgar, who had lost by this fell stroke a most faithful friend, with
the warmest heart which had ever beaten beneath a monarch's breast.
Oh, how the thought of the conversation last night came back to him
now--the warning of Canute, the loving words of affection which had
been spoken to him by those lips now cold in death!
All the imperfections of his character now faded away; he seemed so
brave, yet so loving, so invincible in combat, yet so gentle and
forgiving, as he had shown in forgiving even--even--even--said Alfgar
to his own wounded bleeding heart--even in forgiving his murderer. For
in his eyes it was Edric, and none but Edric, who had done this deed.
But a terrible suspicion of a very opposite nature was rapidly
assuming sway in other men's minds.
A council met before daybreak--the reeve or mayor, the chief
burgesses, two or three thanes then in the town, the officers of the
royal guard, Elfwyn, Herstan, and Edric. After a few preliminaries
Edric rose and spake as follows:
"We have met together under the most awful responsibility which could
fall upon subjects. Edmund, our king, has been murdered, and by whom
we know not."
All were silent.
"I grieve to say," he continued, "that there is but one upon whom our
suspicions can now fall with any shadow of probability--one who is
now absent, for I thought it well not to summon him to this council;
and before naming him, I must recall to you, Elfwyn, and to you,
Herstan, the solemn oath we have all three taken to disregard all
appeals of natural affection, and to ascertain the truth, God being
our helper."
"We have."
"We have," said they with bursting hearts, for they foresaw what
accusation Edric was about to bring.
"I grieve, then, to say," he continued, "that this natural affection
must be bitterly tried, for there is but one to whom my words can
apply. Meanwhile, I will put a few questions. With whose dagger was
the deed committed?"
"Alfgar's," replied those who had been there the previous night.
"Whose chamber commanded the only entrance to the royal chamber?"
"Alfgar's."
"Who incautiously, as if forgetting himself, stated that he found the
door bolted on the inside?"
"Alfgar."
"But the motive--the motive? The poor fellow loved him as he loved his
own father."
"I cannot explain that difficulty, but I can suggest one motive which
may already have suggested itself to several. But let me ask of what
nation is Alfgar?"
"A Dane; but an Englishman by long habit."
"I can answer for that," said Elfwyn.
"Once a Dane always a Dane. Now a secret messenger arrived from Canute
yesterday, and had a long private interview with Alfgar. In short, I
dare not say all I know or suspect, for there can be little doubt who
will reign in England now."
All were silent.
At length Edric continued, "none can deny that we have grounds for our
suspicions."
"Yes, I do deny it," said Elfwyn, "the more so when I remember who
makes the accusation."
"You do well to reproach me; I deserve it, I confess, and more than
deserve it. Yes, I was Edmund's enemy once; but perhaps you remember
yesterday and the early mass at St. Frideswide's."
"We do, we do," cried all but Elfwyn and Herstan; but they were
utterly outvoted, and the order was given to the captain of the
hus-carles to arrest Alfgar.
Alfgar, desolate and almost distracted, not heeding that he was not
summoned to the council, as he might so naturally have expected to be,
wandered mechanically about the palace until the bell summoned him to
the early mass. The bishop was the celebrant, for Father Cuthbert was
to have officiated at the celebration of the marriage of his son in
the faith. The solemn pealing of the bell for the mass at the hour of
daybreak fell upon Alfgar's ears, and he turned almost mechanically to
the cathedral, yet with vague desire to communicate all his griefs and
troubles to a higher power than that of man, and to seek aid from a
diviner source.
He entered, knelt in a mental attitude easier to imagine than
describe, but felt some heavenly dew fall upon his bleeding wounds; he
left without waiting to speak to any one at the conclusion of the
service, and was crossing the quadrangle to the palace which occupied
a portion of the site of modern Christ Church, when a heavy hand was
laid upon his shoulder.
He turned and saw the captain of the guard; two or three of his
officers were beside him.
"It is my painful duty to arrest you and make you my prisoner."
"On what charge?" said the astonished Alfgar.
"The murder of the king."