re than once taken reward to slay the
innocent, look as if they would go down on their knees to this holy
thorn, which wasn't a holy thorn at all, but plucked from some hedge
hard at hand. Did not Edric mock them in his heart! I should like to
strangle him."

How I thought of those who tithed mint and rue, and all manner of
herbs, and passed over justice, mercy, and the love of God.

So, in unavailing complaints, midnight drew on, and we heard the sound
of my brother's horse.

He soon entered the room. We saw at a glance that he had laboured in
vain, and spent his strength for nought.

"No one has seen him," he said.

"Have you asked many people?" we inquired.

"Yes, scores. The sheriff, the bishop, the watchmen, the
tradesfolk--no one has seen or heard aught. I will go again tomorrow."

"Meanwhile, do the people know what passed at the banquet last night?"

"No; it has all been kept quiet," was the reply.

We could do no more, and all retired to rest. I have sat up to say my
mattins and finish this diary. It is now nearly the third hour of the
morn, and--

Monday Night, 23d Nov. 1006.--

I had written as far as the word "and," when I was alarmed by a loud
cry from the chamber next my own, which was occupied by the Etheling.
I rose, and knocked at the door, but, receiving no answer, opened it
and went in.

I saw at once that the prince was delirious; the fever, which I had
marked in his eyes and manner, but which he struggled against, had at
length overcome his brave spirit.

Just as I entered the room, bearing my torch, he sprang out of bed.

"There is a snake under my pillow."

I tried to soothe him.

"It is Edric; he is turned into a snake, and is trying to sting me.
Kill him! kill him!"

I got him into bed with some difficulty, and sat by him, after giving
him a composing draught--for I never travel without a few simples at
hand, in case of sickness amongst those to whom I minister.

He slept at last, but it was evident to me that exposure and
excitement had grievously injured his health, and that he was in
danger of prolonged sickness. Ever and anon he raved in his sleep
about Sweyn, Edric, his father, and Alfgar, mixing them up in his mind
most strangely: but the object of his abhorrence was ever Edric, while
he spoke of Alfgar, "poor Alfgar!" as a father might speak of a son.

I watched by him all through the night, and in the morning he was
evidently too ill to rise. His mind became clea