“The wily tyrant shall find that Edwin the Atheling is not to be so treated,” exclaimed the prince, yielding to a burst of passion.

“You have no remedy, my lord,” said Brithric; “for the people love the usurper, and know nothing of his imprisoned brother, Edwin, the rightful king of England.”

“And shall I always be immured, like a captived thrush?” asked Edwin, indignantly.

“Yes, while Athelstane lives, you must expect no other fate,” said Brithric.  “But what if Athelstane should die?” continued he, fixing his eyes on the face of the prince.

“Oh! hear him not, my lord,” cried Wilfrid, flinging himself at the Atheling’s feet; “he would tempt you to a crime as deadly as that of Cain.”

“Peace, son of Cendric, the traitor!” exclaimed Prince Edwin, leveling at the same time a blow at his faithful page, which felled him to the earth, where he lay covered with blood, and apparently without sense or motion.

“And now speak on, my loving Brithric,” continued the Atheling, without paying the slightest regard to the condition of poor Wilfrid, who was, however, perfectly aware of all that was passing, though, to all appearance, insensible.

“My lord,” said Brithric, drawing nearer to the Atheling, “I will now speak plainly.  I am the cup-bearer of King Athelstane, and the next time I present the red wine to him at the banquet it shall be drugged with such a draught as shall make Prince Edwin lord of England within an hour after the usurper has swallowed it.”

“Traitor, begone!” exclaimed the prince, filled with horror at this dreadful proposal.  “I would not stain my soul with the crime of murder, if by such means I could obtain the empire of the world.”

Brithric used many wicked arguments to induce Prince Edwin to consent to the murder of his royal brother; but Edwin commanded him to leave his presence, and never to presume to enter it again.  The vile wretch, however, alarmed lest the prince should inform the king of the crime he had meditated against him, went to his royal master and accused the Atheling of having endeavored to persuade him to mix poison in the wine cup of his sovereign.

Athelstane, justly indignant at the crime laid to the charge of his royal brother, came with a party of guards to the college.  Here, before his preceptors and all the royal wards, his companions, he charged Edwin with having meditated the crime of treason and fratricide.

You may imagine the consternation of the prince on hearing this dreadful accusation.  It was to no purpose that he protested his innocence, and called on all his faithful associates to witness for him that he had never uttered an injurious thought against the king.  Those who had been most ready to flatter him were silent on this occasion, for they perceived that King Athelstane was persuaded of his brother’s guilt; and some of them said, “They remembered that Prince Edwin had often said that he had a better title to the throne than King Athelstane.”