which led him to select Thorneye as
the favoured site of his monastic foundation. The story of his life and
death are illustrated by the stone pictures on the screen, which divides
the chapel from the high altar, and was probably put up by the pious
Henry VI. One of the favourite scenes is the remission of the Dane-gelt,
which may have taken place in the old Treasury, the Pyx Chapel; here we
see the King pointing to the casks which contain his people's hard-earned
money; upon them formerly danced a demon Dane, thus thwarted of his due.
Edward lies upon his bed in another, calmly watching the scullion who
rifles his treasure-chest, and escapes with a mild admonition from the
gentle King. Further on we see him seated at dinner between his wife
{70} and her father, Earl Godwin, while in front her brothers Tostig and
Harold are disputing, as they quarrelled years afterwards over the crown,
and Edward is roused to a prophetical burst of wrath. The most
significant are the last ones, which recall the famous legend of the ring
and the consecration of the Abbey. St. John, who, disguised as a beggar,
received the ring from Edward, is shown delivering it into the hands of
two pilgrims, who are bidden to return with it to England and deliver it
back to the King, with a message intimating his approaching end. This
ring, taken from the incorruptible finger of the royal saint a century
after his death by Abbot Laurence, was deposited amongst the relics, and
no doubt the wedding ring of England, which is still placed upon the
finger of the sovereign after he has received the insignia of royalty,
had its origin in this sacred ring. We turn to the shrine itself, and
try to picture it in all its pristine beauty before the sacrilegious hand
of the despoiler had touched it. West of the shrine is a modern altar,
the ancient one was destroyed long since, but hitherto a wooden table was
temporarily placed here at coronations, for which this marble altar was
substituted on the last occasion. The modern gilt {71} group over it and
the gilded cornice sorely afflict the eye, and are sadly out of keeping
with the artistic work of the Roman artisans, Odericus and Peter. The
wooden top, of no merit in itself, but dating from Mary Tudor's reign, is
now covered by a velvet pall, which unfortunately conceals the saint's
coffin, formerly visible from the chantry. On either side of St.
Edward's altar were once golden pillars presented by Edward I