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"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."
We crossed the drawbridge, and entered the courtyard under the gateway; before us was the door of the great hall, merrily illumined by its blazing fire. There, then, was the supper table bountifully spread, and the theows and ceorls awaiting the arrival of their lord. We entered, Elfwyn and I, and soon after Bertric, Ethelgiva, and Alfgar followed. A loud horn was blown upon the battlements.
Were the descendants of Hengist, Horsa, Ella, Cerdic, Ercenwin, Ida, Uffa, and Cridda to bear this? and more especially was he, Wilfred, the grandson of the heroic Alfgar, whose praises as the companion in arms of the Ironside had been sung by a hundred minstrels, and told again and again at the winter's fire in the castle hall was he to bear this contumely? He could not much longer.
He called a council of the whole kingdom previously, to which both my brother and I were summoned, but I cared not to attend. Elfwyn, however, went, and wanted Alfgar to go, but he begged hard to be excused, I imagine for two reasons. First of all, he laments Edmund too deeply to welcome his former enemy as his successor; and secondly, he does not care to leave Ethelgiva again.
The days which followed were, it may be imagined, very uncomfortable ones for Alfgar; but he was not destitute of occupation. It was his father's wish that he should join the youth of the camp in athletic and warlike exercises.
I performed the ceremony, assisted by all the brethren in the choral portions of the mass and the order of the marriage service. Ethelgiva was pale and composed although she shed a few natural tears, but wiped them soon. Alfgar was simple and unaffected, as he always is. All he does is so naturally done. Like Nathaniel, he is a man without guile. The church was crowded.
Words spoken ten years before came back to him with marvellous force: "Tell me what is the secret of this Christianity?" And Alfgar knew that Canute had found that secret at last. "Why was he here? Did he come as his friend or foe?" The mass was over. Alfgar had followed the whole ceremony with rapt attention, for it was in God alone that he could now put his confidence.
Just then I remembered that I had promised to meet Alfgar in the pine wood, and I hastened to the spot. I found him seated again on the fallen tree. He rose at my approach, and saluted me with some emotion, as if some inward excitement made itself visible in spite of his efforts to suppress it. "My son," said I, "have you pondered my words of last Sunday?"
His name is Anlaf. Some say he boasts of being a descendant of that Anlaf who once ravaged England, and was defeated at Brunanburgh. He married an English girl, whose heart, they say, he broke by his cruelty. They had one child, Alfgar by name. The mother died a Christian.
Vainly he sought through all the courts of the palace once he thought Alfgar, whose fidelity he never suffered himself to doubt, might be in the chapel, and went there in vain. At last he found a servitor who had seen him go with some men into the city, and hurried forth in search of him.
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