“Bertric of Aescendune, thou mayst save thy life on one condition; dost thou wish to live?”

The thought of home and friends, of his mother, awoke in his breast, and he replied: 

“Yes, for the sake of those who love me.”

“I know nought of them, neither must thou henceforth, but thou mayst live if thou wilt join our nation and renounce thy Christianity; for I, who have no son, and seek one, will even adopt thee.”

“I cannot deny my faith.”

“Dost thou not fear the pain, the sharp arrows with which they will pierce thee?”

“I fear them, but I fear eternal death more; God help me!”

He repeated these last words over and over again, as if the struggle were very sore.

“Decide,” said Sidroc.

“I have decided—­’In manus tuas, Domine,’” he breathed out, “’commendo spiritum meum.’”

“Let fly,” cried the chieftain, “and let the obstinate young fool know what death is.”

Arrow after arrow sped through the air and pierced the legs and arms of the martyr boy, for it was the cruel amusement of the Danes to avoid the vital parts in their living target.  The frame of the sufferer quivered with agony, while the lip seemed striving to form the holy name, which has given strength to thousands of martyrs, whether at the stake, beneath the ferocious beast, or in whatsoever manner it has pleased God to make His strength perfect in weakness.

Then Alfgar saw what was the marvellous power of Christianity, and beheld a heroism utterly beyond the fierce excitement which nerved his countrymen for their scenes of carnage and blood; not one of his pagan friends could have suffered as calmly, as patiently—­it seemed easier for the sufferer to bear than for Alfgar to look on; once or twice the latter gave audible vent to his emotions, but the look which Bertric turned upon him spoke volumes, and he restrained himself lest he should add to the pain of the victim.  He knew not then that the example before him would nerve him in moments of severest trial, then fast approaching, that the one accusation urged against the Christians, which he had felt most keenly, that of cowardice, was answered in the weak yet valiant boy, who found strength in the name of Christ to endure all for His sake; neither did his fierce countrymen know that they were preparing a disappointment for the pagan Anlaf, and for all those of his house and lineage.

We cannot enter more closely into the secret which gave the martyr his strength; we know not the visions of heavenly joy which may have overpowered the present pain, we know not whether He who gave this elaborate framework of flesh and blood, nerve and sinew, miraculously suspended the full operation of His laws, as is elsewhere recorded of other martyrs.  Certain it is, that sooner than relinquish Him, Bertric, like Saint Edmund nearly two centuries earlier, yielded his life to the rage of the enemies of His Lord {vi}.