sking
us to take care of her. She is a gentle lady, worn down with care. He
has gone, in conjunction with Edric, to fight Canute. I dread this
conjunction. Edmund would have gone alone, but his father insisted on
joining Edric in the command, saying two heads were better than one.

November 1015.--

Alfgar has come home, bringing messages from Edmund, with sad but not
altogether unexpected news. Edric, who is steeped in stratagems and
deceit, plotted against his life again and again, whereupon Edmund
broke up the camp in indignation, and took a separate course with all
the warriors who would follow his standard. Edric took the rest, went
down to the seacoast, seduced the crews of forty ships, and then
joined Canute with his whole forces. Alas! there seems no hope now.

Epiphany, 1016.--

There is war all over the land--civil war. It is not to be wondered
at. But many Englishmen have given their allegiance to Canute, who now
professes himself a Christian, saying they will not serve Ethelred any
more. So Edmund and Canute are both, I fear, ravaging the land, for
Edmund has threatened more than once to regard those people as foes
who refuse to fight against the Danes. Men know not what to do.

Eastertide, 1016.--

We have received strange news. Ethelred is dying. He has summoned his
son. The tidings reached Edmund here. He had only been with us a
single day, and was about to depart again for the war, for Canute
threatens to attack London. It is there Ethelred lies sick unto death.
Edmund seemed more moved than I should have expected. He has departed
in all haste, taking Alfgar with him.

CHAPTER XIX. THE ROYAL DEATHBED.

It was the evening of a stormy day in April when a band of five
hundred men, well armed and equipped, were seen approaching the Moor
Gate of London. Their leader rode in front, a stalwart warrior, whose
eagle eye and dauntless brow told of one born to command. By his side
rode a younger warrior, yet one who had nearly reached the prime of
life, and who bore the traces of a life of warfare most legibly
stamped upon him. There was this difference between them, that men
would have recognised the elder at once as an Englishman, while the
younger had all the outward physiognomy of a Dane.

"Look, Alfgar, and see whether you can see the flag of Wessex floating
over the gates; your eyes are better than mine," said the elder to his
companion.

"I can barely see through the driving rain and darke