To my Thane, greeting.—­What has befallen us, and how we have divided the kingdom with our brother Cnut in the old way of the days of Alfred the greatest of our line, you will have heard.  We have fought, and all men say that we have fought well; but this is how things have been ordered by the Lord of Hosts.  Therefore, my thane, for your sake, and seeing specially that already our brother Cnut is well disposed toward you, as Godwine son of Wulfnoth tells us, by reason of your service to Emma the queen—­I would bid you accept him as ruler of East Anglia, where your place is.  And you shall hold this letter in proof that thus our word to you is, if in days to come the line of Wessex kings shell hold the kingdom once more.  Few have been those who have been faithful to us as have you.

Now, I will set down no more, for Eadmund my king wrote to me as he was wont to speak in the days that were gone, and I wept as I read his words—­wept bitterly there on Ashingdon hill, and I am not ashamed thereof.

And when I had spelt out to the end of his letter there were words also that were pleasant to me.  For they were written by Elfric the abbot, my friend, thus: 

Written by the hand of Elfric, Abbot of St. Peter’s Minster at Medehamstede.

I, Elfric, bid you, my son Redwald, be of cheer, for in the end all shall be for the best.  Bide in your home of Bures if Cnut wills, as I think shall be, and see to the good of your own people as would your father who has gone.  There is an end of war for England.  It remains for us to make for the things of peace.

Then I sat and thought for long, and at last it seemed to me that I could do nought but as both king and friend would bid me, and the words that Elfric had written weighed more with me than those of the king.  Now that I could fight no more I began to long to get back to that home life in the old place that had seemed so near to me and had been taken away.

And then came the thought of Uldra, and of what she would say of this.  But as things were, and with this letter before me, I could not doubt what her word would be.  She would speak as Elfric wrote.  Then I longed for Olaf and his counsel.  But he was far beyond my reach, nor could I tell where he might be.  He had gone across the gray rim of the sea, and no track was there for me to follow.

The evening fell, and still I sat there, and Thrand of Colchester came to seek me—­I know not what he feared for me if I grew lonely on Ashingdon hill now that all seemed lost.

“Master, come back to the ships,” he said.  “It is ill biding here after sunset.  The slain are unquiet by reason of Streone’s deeds.”

“They will not harm me, Thrand,” I answered.  “I would I lay here with them even now . . . but that is past.”

I rose up and went down the hill with him, and the sun set behind it, and it was gray and black against the red evening sky.  There was a mist from the river, and one might think that one saw many things moving therein.