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Updated: June 19, 2025
The Etheling smiled against his will. "Our foe would needs be a Grendel to reach us from that side." He struck the wand sharply against his riding-boots. "Oh, it is not that I think the work so pressing." "In the Fiend's name, what then is the cause of your distemper?"
After we had arrayed the Etheling and Alfgar this morning, I decided to accompany them on their road to Dorchester, for it happened that I had arranged to say mass and preach tomorrow at the little church of St. Michael at Clifton, the residence of my sister Bertha and her husband Herstan.
Edgar Etheling was soon allowed to ransom himself, and retiring to his own estates, lived there in peace.
He whom they had called the Etheling drew himself up alertly. "I make no answer to hedge-creepers," he said. "Come out where you can be seen." The voice took on a mocking edge. "There is no gainsaying that I feel safer here. I am the messenger of Edric of Mercia." Only a warning sign from the Lord of Ivarsdale restrained an angry chorus.
"A messenger for the Etheling; is Prince Edmund with you? I would see him." "All are welcome tonight, but I fear you will find the Etheling ill-disposed to leave the feast." "Let me in." Astonished at the tone of the request, the porter reluctantly complied, first looking around. "Why, thou art wild and breathless; is aught amiss?" "Step out and look over the hills; what dost thou see?"
"I am no less able than the Lord of Baddeby to restrain him," the Etheling said with some warmth. "If it be your pleasure, King Edmund, I will keep him under my hand until the end of the war, and answer for his silence with my life." Then Norman's eagerness got the better of his discretion. "Now, by Saint Dunstan," he cried, "you take too much upon you, Lord of Ivarsdale!
The Etheling answered almost impatiently, "If your mind feels doubt of it, Lord Canute, you have but to ask your foster-brother, who conducted me hither." A while longer, Canute's keen eyes weighed him; then their sky was cleared of the last cloud. The best expression of which his brilliant face was capable was on it as he turned and held out his hand to the girl beside him.
He had murdered, or at least caused to be murdered, horribly, Alfred the Etheling, King Ethelred's son and heir-apparent, when it seemed his interest to support the claims of Hardicanute against Harefoot. He now found little difficulty in persuading his victim's younger brother to come to England, and become at once his king, his son-in-law and his puppet.
Andrew, and Eve of Advent Sunday. All this week I have been watching by the sickbed of the Etheling. I hope the crisis is past, but he is still very weak. He has been delirious nearly the whole time, and today has but a confused idea of things around him.
Our Etheling Edgar lived on in peace through all the troublous times of Stephen, without again appearing in history, till his death is noted in 1159, ninety-three years after the Norman Conquest.
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