Now King Athelstane was already conscience-stricken for his conduct toward his brother Edwin.  His ship, during the same night that he had compelled him to enter the boat with Wilfrid, was terribly tossed by the tempest, and he felt that the vengeance of God was upon him for his hardness of heart.  The crew of the royal vessel had toiled and labored all night, and it was with great difficulty that the ship was at length got into port.  Every individual on board, as well as the king himself, felt convinced that the storm was a visitation upon them for what they had done.

King Athelstane had become very melancholy and offered large rewards to any one who would bring him news of his unfortunate brother; and he looked with horror upon Brithric as the cause of his having dealt so hardly with Edwin.  One day, when Brithric was waiting at table with the king’s cup, it happened that his foot slipped, and he would have fallen if he had not dexterously saved himself with the other foot:  observing some of the courtiers smile, he cried out jestingly, “See you, my lords, how one brother helps the other.”

“It is thus that brother should aid brother,” said the king; “but it was thee, false traitor, that did set me against mine! for the which thou shalt surely pay the forfeit of thy life in the same hour that tidings are brought me of his death.”

At that moment Wilfrid, presenting himself before the king, said, “King Athelstane, I bring thee tidings of Edwin the Atheling!”

“The fairest earldom in my kingdom shall be the reward of him who will tell me that my brother liveth,” exclaimed the king eagerly.

“If thou wouldst give the royal crown of England from off thine head it would not bribe the deep sea to give up its dead!” replied the page.

“Who art thou that speakest such woeful words?” demanded Athelstane, fixing his eyes with a doubting and fearful scrutiny on the face of the page.

“Hast thou forgotten Wilfrid, the son of Cendric?” replied the youth; “he who commended himself to the mercy of the King of kings, in that dark hour when thy brother Edwin implored for thine in vain.”

“Ha!” cried the king, “I remember thee now; thou art the pale stripling who bore witness of my brother’s innocence of the crime with which the false-tongued Brithric charged him!”

“The same, my lord,” said Wilfrid; “and God hath witnessed for my truth by preserving me from the waters of the great deep, to which thou didst commit me with my lord, Prince Edwin.”

“But Edwin—­my brother Edwin! tell me of him!” cried Athelstane, grasping the shoulder of the page.

“Did not his drowning cry reach thine ear, royal Athelstane?” asked Wilfrid, bursting into tears.  “Ere thy tall vessel had disappeared from our sight the fair-haired Atheling was ingulfed in the stormy billows that swelled round our frail bark, and I, only I, am, by the especial mercy of God, preserved to tell thee the sad fate of thy father’s son, whom thou wert, in an evil hour, moved by a treacherous villain to destroy.”