“God judge between you, then,” said the bishop, “but I warn you that you appear the greater transgressor.”

“Meanwhile,” said Edric, “I feel like a man who is being put unjustly to the torture.  What is the accusation against me?—­let it be stated in plain words.”

“That just after the army disbanded in October, you visited the camp of Sweyn, and gave him to understand that the country was at his mercy, opposition being removed.”

“What day of the month?”

“I do not know the exact day.”

“Perhaps it was in the Greek calends,” said Edric.

“I do not know when the Greek calends are, nor do I want to; my mother spent her time, I thank God, in teaching me to speak the truth, and to be true to my country, and not in teaching me outlandish gibberish.”

“Still,” said the bishop, “it is important to learn the day.”

“Alfgar can perhaps inform you, but one day must have been much like another to him in the Danish camp.”

“His statement would need verification,” said Ednoth.

“He is as true and brave as any man here.”

“Of course, all Danes are true and brave,” said Edric.

“He is a Christian.”

“Yes; I think he became one on St. Brice’s day,” suggested Edric.

“To save his life, no doubt,” said the sheriff.

Meanwhile Ethelred had changed colour, and Edric cried out: 

“Have we not forgotten in whose presence we are?  The king, who was quite ignorant of the mistaken zeal which misinterpreted his wishes that day, cannot bear to be reminded of it.  He is all too merciful and gentle for such days as ours.”

“I suppose he put on mourning for Elfhelm,” whispered Edmund in the bishop’s ear.

“Forget not that he is your father.”

“We are wasting time,” said the king.  “Edric, what is your answer to this accusation?”

“That when the army disbanded I went on pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Joseph at Glastonbury, and can produce, in the time requisite for a messenger to go and return, an attestation to that effect.  Here,” he said, putting his hand to his bosom, and drawing out a reliquary, “is a holy thorn plucked from St. Joseph’s tree.”

“Art thou not ashamed, my son, to have brought such a charge against the venerator of the Saints, one of the few in whom faith yet lives?”

“No, for I do not believe he was ever there at all.”

“Witness the holy thorn.”

“Thorns may be plucked in bushels round Dorchester or any other place.”

“It is a question of pure testimony,” said the bishop.

“It is,” added the sheriff and the reeve.

“Then, may I produce my witness?” said Edmund.

“Certainly,” said the king.

“By all means,” added Edric.

The bishop called an attendant, and ordered him to fetch Alfgar.

“Before he enters I must remind you all,” said Edric, “that the word of a Dane is to be opposed to that of a Christian.”