Now we went on slowly up the hill, and at last rode into the gates.  There men loitered idly, as yesterday; for the head of the house sat silent and moody in his chamber, and none had orders for aught.  Across the court we went to the priests’ lodgings, and thence came the chaplains to meet their lord, and with him I was taken into the house.

“I have come to see the king,” said the archbishop; “take me to him straightway.”

“He will see none,” they said; “it is his word that no man shall disturb him.”

“If he will hear what shall make his heart less heavy, he will see me,” said the archbishop.  “Tell him that I have news for him.  Or stay; I will go to him myself.”

The priests looked at one another, but they could not stop their lord; and with a sign to us to follow, he passed across the court again, up the long hall, and so into the council chamber.  At the door which led to Offa’s apartments there was a young thane on guard, but no others were to be seen.  I suppose that never before had Offa been so ill attended, for the very courtiers feared what curse should light on the place and all who bided in it.

“Tell your lord that I demand audience with him,” said the archbishop to this thane.  “The matter will not wait; it is urgent.”

The youth rose and bowed, and passed within the door.  In a moment or two he was back again, throwing the door open for us.

“Yourself and no other, lord,” he said.

“I take these two,” answered Ealdwulf the archbishop.  “I will answer to the king for their presence.”

So we two, Erling and I, followed him into the chamber of the king; and with my first glance at Offa there fell on me a great pity for him.

He sat at a great heavy table in a carven chair, leaning his crossed arms before him on the board, and staring at naught with hollow, black-ringed eyes, as of sleeplessness and grief.  His face was wan and drawn, so that he seemed ten years or more older than when last he sat in hall with us; and he was clad in the same clothes which he wore when he came forth to us on the morning of terror.  None had dared to touch aught in his room; and bent and soiled among the rushes on the floor lay the little gold crown which he wore at the last feast, as if he had swept it from the table out of his sight, and had spurned it from him thereafter in some fit of passion.  Hard by that lay a broken sword, and its hilt flashed and sparkled with the gems I had noted in the hall.  It was his own.

On the table was neither wine nor food, but there was a great book, silver covered and golden lettered, and it was open at a place where a wondrous picture in many hues showed a king who seemed to humble himself in fear before a long-robed man priestlike.

He did not stir when we came in, nor did he say a word.  Only he looked at Ealdwulf, as it were blindly, waiting what he should hear from his lips.  And into his look there crept somewhat like fear.