Immediately after the service he repaired to the palace, and put in his name. Numbers, like himself, were awaiting an audience, but only a few minutes had pa.s.sed ere an usher came into the antechamber and informed him that Dunstan requested his immediate presence.

He followed the usher amidst the envy of many who had the prospect of a long detention ere they could obtain the same favour, and soon he had clasped Dunstan's hand and knelt for his blessing.

"Nay! rise up, my son, it is thine: _Deus benedicat et custodiat te, in omnibus viis tuis_. Thinkest thou, my son, thy name has been forgotten in my poor prayers? G.o.d made thee His instrument, but thou wast a very very willing one; and now, my son, wherein can I serve thee? Thou hast but to speak."

Thus encouraged, Alfred told all his tale, and Dunstan listened with much emotion.

"Yet two days and I will be with you at Aescendune. Go back and comfort thy brother; he shall indeed have my forgiveness, and happy shall I be as an amba.s.sador of Christ to fulfil the blessed office of restoring the lost sheep to the fold, the prodigal to his Heavenly Father."

When Alfred returned to Aescendune he found Elfric eagerly awaiting him; he had not been so well in the absence of his brother, and every one saw symptoms of the coming end.

Still he seemed so happy when Alfred delivered his message that every one remarked it, and that evening he sat up later than usual, listening as Father Cuthbert read for the hundredth time his favourite story from King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon version of the Gospels, the parable of the prodigal son, which had filled his mind on the night after the battle; then he spoke to his mother about past days, before a cloud came between him and his home; and talked of his father, and of the little incidents of early youth. Always loving, he was more so than usual that night, as if he felt time was short in which to show a son's love.

That night his mother came, as she always came, when he was asleep, to his chamber to gaze upon him, when she was struck by the difficulty of his breathing; she felt alarmed when she saw the struggles he seemed to make for breath, and saw the damp sweat upon his brow, so she called Alfred.

Alfred saw at once that his brother was seriously worse, and summoned Father Cuthbert, who no sooner gazed upon him than he exclaimed that the end was near.

During all that night he breathed heavily and with difficulty, as if each breath would be the last. Towards morning, however, he rallied, and immediate danger seemed gone, although only for a short time.

He sat up for the last time that day. It was a lovely day in May, and in the heat of the day he seemed to drink in the sweet atmosphere, as it came gently through the open window, laden with the scents of a hundred flowers. Often his lips moved as if in prayer, and sometimes he spoke to his brother, and asked when Dunstan would come; but he was not equal to prolonged conversation.

At length one of the ceorls came riding in to say that the Bishop, with his retinue, was approaching the village, and Father Cuthbert went out to meet him. The impatient anxiety of poor Elfric became painful to witness.

"He is coming, Elfric! he is coming!" said Alfred from the window. "I see him near; see! he stops to salute Father Cuthbert, whom he knew years ago; I must go down to receive him.

"Mother! You stay with Elfric."

A sound as of many feet; another moment, a firm step was heard upon the stairs, and Dunstan entered the room.

He advanced to the bed, while all present stood in reverent silence, and gazed upon the patient with a look of such affection as a father might bestow upon a dying son as he took the weak nerveless hand.

Elfric looked round with a mute appeal which they all comprehended, and left him alone with Dunstan.

"Father, pardon me!" he said.

"Thou askest pardon of me, my son--of me, a sinner like thyself; I cannot tell thee how freely I give it thee; and now, my son, unburden thyself before thy G.o.d, for never was it known that one pleaded to Him and was cast out."

When, after an interval, Dunstan summoned the lady Edith and Alfred back into the room, a look cf such calm, placid composure, such satisfied happiness, sat upon his worn face, that they never forgot it.

"Surely," thought they, "such is the expression the blessed will wear in heaven."

And then, in their presence, Dunstan administered the Blessed Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ to the happy penitent; it was the first Communion which he had willingly made since he first left home, a bright happy boy of fifteen; and words would fail to describe the deep faith and loving penitence with which he gathered his dying strength to receive the Holy Mysteries.

And then Dunstan administered the last of all earthly rites--the holy anointing;[x.x.xiii] while amidst their tears the mourners yet thought of Him Who vouchsafed to be anointed before He sanctified the grave to be a bed of hope to His people.

"Art thou happy now, my son?" said Dunstan, when all was over.

"Happy indeed! happy! yes, so happy!"

They were almost the last words he said, until an hour had pa.s.sed and the sun had set, leaving the bright clouds suffused in rich purple, when he sat up in the bed.

"Mother! Alfred!" he said, "do you hear that music? Many are singing; surely that was father's voice. Oh! how bright!"

He fell back, and Dunstan began the solemn commendatory prayer, for he saw the last moment was come.

"Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the name of G.o.d the Father Who hath created thee, of G.o.d the Son Who hath redeemed thee, of G.o.d the Holy Ghost Who hath been poured out upon thee; and may thy abode be this day in peace, in the heavenly Sion, through Jesus Christ thy Lord."

It was over! Over that brief but eventful life! Over all the bright hopes which had centred on him in this world; but the battle was won, and the eternal victory gained.

We have little more to add to our tale; the remainder is matter of history. The real fate of the unhappy Elgiva is not known, for the legend which represents her as suffering a violent death at the hands of the partisans of Edgar or Odo rests upon no solid foundation, but is repugnant to actual facts of history. Let us hope that she found the only real consolation in that religion she had hitherto, unhappily, despised, but which may perhaps have come to her aid in adversity.

The unhappy Edwy sank from bad to worse. When Elgiva was gone he seemed to have nothing to live for; he yielded himself up to riotous living to drown care, while his government became worse and worse. Alas, he never repented, so far as we can learn, and the following year he died at Gloucester--some said of a broken heart, others of a broken const.i.tution--in the twentieth year only of his age.

Poor unhappy Edwy the Fair! Yet he had been his own worst enemy. Well has it been written:

"Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou that for all these things G.o.d will bring thee into judgment."

Edgar succeeded to the throne, and all England acknowledged him as lord; while under Dunstan's wise administration the land enjoyed peace and plenty unexampled in Anglo-Saxon annals. Such was Edgar's power, that more than three thousand vessels kept the coast in safety, and eight tributary kings did him homage.

Alfred became in due course Thane of Aescendune, and his widowed mother lived to rejoice in his filial care many a long year, while the dependants and serfs blessed his name as they had once blessed that of his father.

"The boy is the father of the man" it has been well said, and it was not less true than usual in this case. A bright pure boyhood ushered in a manhood of healthful vigour and bright intellect.

Children grew up around him after his happy marriage with Alftrude, the daughter of the thane of Rollrich. The eldest boy was named Elfric, and was bright and brave as the Elfric of old. Need we say he never went to court, although Edgar would willingly have numbered him in the royal household. Truly, indeed, were fulfilled the words which the Elfric of old had spoken on that Easter eve. To his namesake, and to all that younger generation, the memory of the uncle they had never seen was surrounded by a mysterious halo of light and love; and when they said their prayers around his tomb, it seemed as if he were still one of themselves--sharing their earthly joys and sorrows.

And here we must leave them--time pa.s.sing sweetly on, the current of their lives flowing softly and gently to the mighty ocean of eternity:

"Where the faded flower shall freshen, Freshen never more to fade; Where the shaded sky shall brighten, Brighten never more to shade."

_Bonar_.

THE END.

i For authorities for his various statements the Author must beg to refer his readers to the notes at the end of the volume.

ii Homilies in the Anglo-Saxon Church

"The ma.s.s priest, on Sundays and ma.s.s days, shall speak the sense of the Gospel to the people in English, and of the Paternoster, and of the Creed, as often as he can, for the inciting of the people to know their belief, and to retain their Christianity. Let the teacher take heed of what the prophet says, 'They are dumb dogs, and cannot bark.' We ought to bark and preach to laymen, lest they should be lost through ignorance. Christ in His gospel says of unlearned teachers, 'If the blind lead the blind, they both fall into the ditch.' The teacher is blind that hath no book learning, and he misleads the laity through his ignorance. Thus are you to be aware of this, as your duty requires."-- 23d Canon of Elfric, about A.D. 957.

Elfric was then only a private monk in the abbey of Ahingdon, and perhaps composed these canons for the use of Wulfstan, Bishop of Dorchester, with the a.s.sistance of the abbot, Ethelwold. They commence "Aelfricus, humilis frater, venerabili Episcopo Wulfsino, salutem in Domino." Others think this "Wulfsinus" was the Bishop of Sherborne of that name. Elfric became eventually Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D.

995-1005, dying at an advanced age. No other English name before the Conquest is so famous in literature.

iii Services of the Church.

"It concerns ma.s.s priests, and all G.o.d's servants, to keep their churches employed with G.o.d's service. Let them sing therein the seven-tide songs that are appointed them, as the Synod earnestly requires--that is, the uht song (matins); the prime song (seven A.M.); the undern song (terce, nine A.M.); the midday song (s.e.xt); the noon song (nones, three P.M.); the even song (six P.M.); the seventh or night song (compline, nine P.M.)"--19th Canon of Elfric.

It is not to be supposed that the laity either were expected to attend, or could attend, all these services, which were strictly kept in monastic bodies; but it would appear that ma.s.s, and sometimes matins and evensong, or else compline, were generally frequented. And these latter would be, as represented in the text, the ordinary services in private chapels.

iv Battle of Brunanburgh.