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"So they are!" replied Swythe, and, taking now a clean dry brush, he began to smoothe and dab and press gently till there was not a trace left of where the scraps of gold joined or lay one over the other, all becoming strong and perfect excepting the edges, where the gold lay loose, till, quite satisfied with his work, the monk passed his brush briskly over the letter, carrying off every scrap of gold outside the gummed letter, and leaving this clean, smooth, and glistening.
The big ornamental letter was now becoming very bright and gay, Alfred looking upon it as finished; but Swythe went on. "It's very wonderful!" said the boy. "You seem as if you can make any colours out of red, yellow, and blue."
The monk groaned again, and the three boys outside the reeds laughed with malicious glee. "If we pull him out he'll only take us back and begin to teach us to read." "Yes, yes, yes," sighed Father Swythe; "I came to fetch you in. The Queen sent me." "Then we won't help you," said Bert; laughing. "Let's go and finish getting our fish, and then go back.
As he spoke Swythe took a clean mussel-shell and placed in it a tiny portion of scarlet powder. "That's a pretty colour!" said the boy. "What is it?" "The colour made by burning some quicksilver and brimstone together in a very hot fire till it is red, and afterwards I grind it up into fine dust.
Then, taking it from the window-sill and shutting out the breeze again, Swythe placed his work ready and took out, from a snug corner, a tiny book made by sewing together about half-a-dozen leaves of parchment, and upon opening this very carefully Alfred saw within a piece of brilliant shining gold. "Oh, how beautiful!" cried Alfred, making a dart at it with his hand.
Swythe rose from the table and opened a box, out of which he took a crisp clean piece of nearly transparent sheepskin and a couple of quill pens, sat down again, and then from another box he drew out a piece of lead and a flat ruler not a lead-pencil such as is now used, but a little pointed piece of ordinary lead with which he deftly made a few straight lines across the parchment, and then very carefully drew a beautiful capital A, which he finished off with scrolls and turns and tiny vine-leaves with a running stalk and half-a-dozen tendrils.
"There!" cried Swythe, when he had covered the last speck, and all was gold leaf; but Alfred shook his head. "It looks very beautiful," he said; "but I don't like it. The edges are all rugged and rough."
Then a thrust with a thin piece of wood sent the hairs right through, all but the tied-up ends; and Swythe held his work up in triumph a complete little paint-brush. "How clever!" cried the boy eagerly; "but how did you get that badger's hair?" "Saved," said Swythe, "when the dogs killed that badger last year." "And the ducks' quills?"
Still, I had looked for better things of you all than that I should hear that you openly defy Father Swythe, and have made him come to me to say that he can do no more, and to ask to be dismissed. There, Fred, leave me now. I will talk to your brothers when they return from the chase."
King Ethelwulf frowned, but said no more then, contenting himself with pressing forward to give his hand to Swythe, who had followed the boy as soon as he saw him change his course; and soon after the King's heart was gladdened by seeing Osburga with her train of women and serfs coming to meet them, answering the Saxon soldiers' cheers.
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