Alfgar never saw his beloved lord enter his chamber with a look of greater weariness than he bore that night.

“It has been a hard fight, old friend,” said the familiar king, “but we have conquered; for my part, I would far sooner have stood out against him, battle-axe in hand, than have met this struggle, could I have foreseen it beforehand; but now I have given him the kiss of peace, peace it must be; he has no more to dread from me.”

“Nor you from him, I trust.”

“I must trust so, or I should not feel I had really forgiven, and I cannot give my hand where my heart is not; but yet it was such a fight.  ’Tis easy to stand in the deadly gap and keep the foe from a beleaguered citadel:  men praise the deed, and there is a feeling of conscious pride which sustains one, but the truly great deeds are those which no chronicler records.  It requires more bravery to forgive sometimes than to avenge.”

“I can well believe that, my lord.”

“Well, if my path has been beset with foes, so has it with friends.  Such love as yours, Alfgar, I say as yours has been!—­well, few kings share such affections.”

“My lord, you first loved me; at least you saved me from a fearful death.”

“And you have warded off death from me again and again in the battlefield; nay, deny it not, nor say it was merely your duty, men do not always do such duty.”

“My lord, you praise me more than I can feel I deserve.”

“Not more than I feel you deserve, and yet were not this your last night as my companion, were not tomorrow’s ceremony to separate us, perhaps for ever, I do not think I should thus overwhelm your modesty.

“You blush like a girl,” said he, laughingly.

He lingered some time, and seemed loath to undress.  At last he said: 

“Have you seen the messenger Canute sent me?”

“Yes; I entertained him at the buttery as you requested.”

“Well, he came with a proposal from Canute that we should join in building and endowing a church at Assingdun, where a priest may ever say mass for the souls of our dead, whether English or Dane.  Of course I have accepted the offer, but Canute added another and more mysterious message.”

“And what was that?”

“‘Beware,’ he said, ’of Edric; his apparent desire of reconciliation cannot be trusted;’ and he added that Edric was like a certain person who wanted to become a monk when he was sick.”

“I fear he speaks the truth.”

“But I cannot act upon his advice; it is too late now.  I have striven to do what I thought, and the bishop said, in his Master’s name, was my duty—­well, I have my reward in the approbation of my conscience.  Goodnight, Alfgar, goodnight; I shall sleep soundly tonight; I hope some day I may lay me down for my last long sleep as peacefully.”

Alfgar followed his example, and, commending himself to God, slept.