Star of Mercia: Historical Tales of Wales and the Marches

by Blanche Devereux

  Earl Sweyn the Nithing

  _Being the Chronicle of Winifred Ebba's daughter_

  In the first year of King Hardicanute, on the sixth-and-twentieth dayof May, feast of blessed Augustine, Algive, only child of Aldred,sometime thane of Berrington, became by oath-plight nun of the Order ofblessed Benedict, before the altar of the Abbey-church of Leominster,lately builded and begun by Leofric the good Earl. By this means grewthe hoard of the same holy house the richer by the half of her goods.The other half, and her land at Berrington eke, Athelstane her unclekept for himself.

  On the self-same day, and in the self-same abbey-church, did I,Winifred Ebba's daughter, whose father had been freed churl of thefather's father of this Algive, make also mine awful vows to serve Godafter St. Benedict's law. Algive Aldred's daughter had then fifteenyears, and I six more than she: all the days of our lives had we playedtogether, and I watched over her. And for that I had ever longed, sinceI could mind me, for the religious life, I was glad in that hour: andmy kindred chode not too greatly, for that I willed to tread the pathwhereon wended our old thane's daughter. But for Lady Algive was heroath-plight the spring of many and bitter woes.

  Now Algive was a right comely maiden. Like the blush of the wild roseon milk was the skin of her cheek: red as the wild rose-berries hersoft lips; her hair yellow as the heart of the honeysuckle, and longand curling before they shore it; and her eyes were blue and greytogether, as the onyx-stone in my Lord Bishop's great ring. She washale, blithe, and unmoody, mild and forgiving; she worshipped God as domost women; she had ever a most sweet ruth for all that ailed orsorrowed; boughsome was she unto the rule of St. Benedict, in so far asthe Abbess willed: yet I do mind me of thinking always that Heaven hadnot called her to be a nun. Howsoever, these thoughts kept I to myself.Twenty sisters were we, a few good enough, many less good than the bestthat lead the life of the world. We dwelt together in peace as far asmight be; but there were no saints among us, such as King Edward loved.Nor was there such learning at Leominster as many of our Englishsisterhoods did boast of; but of such things I cannot speak cunningly,nor was I ever drawn to lettered lore. For me, the things of thehousehold: let me cook and mend, heal and bind, and all happiness ismine. Our sister Algive had small learning enough. But because she wassunny ever, and none hated her, and because, moreover, her kin weremighty folk, when the Abbess Mildred came to die, we made her Abbessover us. Algive was then in her one-and-twentieth year. I do think thatfrom first to last her rule was overmild. Many of us left prayer foridle talking--an ill thing where there are many women! Me she took fromthe kitchen, wherein I had wrought since my coming to the convent, tobe sub-prioress, and sent me often as her trusted bode about the farmand garden.

  Those were the days when holy King Edward sat upon the throne inThorney Island, by London town, and doughty Earl Godwin swayed theland. Many hated this Godwin; not a few feared, but ever followed him;but I who knew him can tell you so much of him: Were he greedy ofwealth and grasping after means to might, yet had he a stout Englishheart, and none loved better than he the English land, or kenned betterthe wants of English folk. Churl's son or childe's son, I wit not, butKing Edward took his daughter, fair Edith, as Lady of the English; andthe children of Godwin were of the blood of kings, for he wedded Gythathe Danish Lady, kinswoman of King Canute. But though foremost in Witanand in leaguer, two of his own sons might Earl Godwin never rule. Ofthe six sons of Godwin, with three have I, Winifred, had my dealings,and of those three this is my reckoning: Sweyn the eldest was a man,for all his wilfulness and his sinful wrath. Harold the next-born was anoble prince. Woe worth the day wherein the arrow slew him! As forTostig, fair of face as Michael Archangel, he was a devil.

  Now the Abbey of Leominster stood in the old land of Offa, somefourteen miles from the Hereford, where the king's armies are wont topass over Wye into the fastnesses of the Welsh. Some three years beforemy lady Algive became our Abbess, Sweyn the first-born son of Godwinwas made Earl, and given as Earldom much of the old kingdom of theMarch--to wit, Herefordshire and Gloucestershire, and more beside. Erelong there spread from mouth to mouth tales of the wildness of ouryoung Earl, even such wildness as Godwin his father bore with never inany other lord in England. More viking he seemed than Englishman, whichmade some to wonder, and to put abroad a groundless slander. And withbrooding brows and foreboding nods, folk would tell of how he spurnedthe wise words of the old, or of how he would at times drink deep, andthen fall to singing, fighting, or love-making maybe. Yet was he arighteous lawgiver, and open-handed ever: loving a daring deed, ahearty lay, a tale of the great ones of bygone years. Few there werethat wished him not well, and few that prayed not God to bring himthrough the storms of youth to a steady manhood. Alack! alack for LordSweyn! tallest, proudest, most gifted of all the Godwinsons!

  It was on the twenty-sixth day of May--the self-same day of ourprofession--in the year of Our Lord One Thousand, Forty and Seven, whenthe hawthorn was in full bloom, and the bleak blossoms of theblackthorn hung withered and tattered on their swart stems, and all ourbroad meadows shone golden with the buttercup, that we of the conventof Leominster heard a clatter of many horses' hooves upon thecobble-stones before our door. And there before the door was Sweyn ourEarl, with twenty Danish house-carles that followed him, and at hisside some of the wealthiest and worthiest thanes of our smiling shireof Hereford. He was much above the mean height, long-limbed and lithe,with a swift and noiseless tread; not ruddy, as are the most of theEnglish, but dark of hair and milk-white of skin as his mother theDane, and browned about the face and neck by wind and sun; with a noselike the beak of a hawk, and eyes like the hawk's for brightness, and asudden, rare smile such as God gives to few. And a most beguilingtongue had Earl Sweyn--the tongue of a sagaman.

  I saw his coming, peeping from an upper window, and went in haste withthe tidings to the Lady Abbess.

  He strode into her little parlour, and louted low before her. Then manya strange thing happened. I was standing by at this their firstmeeting, and what there befell can I forget never. For ye must bear inmind that for six years I had toiled without end within the conventkitchen, and beheld no man, young or old, goodly or wizen, but Godmundthe priest. It was a fair sight that greeted the Earl, that of AlgiveAldred's daughter, now full-grown to womanhood--two and twenty yearshad she--fair even in her weeds of black, with her eyes lowered, yetshe peering, as I knew, all the while from beneath her lashes. And so,when he then beheld her, Sweyn Godwinson grew pale beneath his bronze,and stood stock-still before her, his look all wonder. Algive raisedher grey-blue eyes to his for one short moment. Of a sudden she droppedher gaze once again to the hem of her kirtle, and felt fumblingly forthe crucifix at her waist. Then Sweyn flushed deep red, and his fingersclenched on the handle of his boar-spear; and taking another stepforward, he bowed him down once more, and gave her greeting in words.Thereafter these twain talked together in courtly wise, as befittedthem.

  * * * * *

  From that day forth came Earl Sweyn often to our Abbey. Twice or thricehad he with him his near kinsman, Beorn, late made Earl of the MiddleEnglish, sister's son to King Canute. This was a handsome man enough,but methought his eyes were treacherous. After a while Earl Sweynbrought Beorn no more, but himself came, and was much with the Abbessalone.

  My lady had indeed grounds for beseeching help of him: her churls wereunruly, and who could rede the Abbess so well as the Earl? Howsoever,within the sisterhood was there great tattle of talk, and light hintinganent their two names. I but waited, and prayed, feeling sharp woe, andsorrowed in my heart--Mary forgive me!--as much for him as for her.

  Then one day late in June, the Lady Abbess rode forth, with only a bandof weapon-bearing churls, to Hereford, where Sweyn the Earl then dwelt.A week's stay made she there, then rode back again to her Abbey. Nomore was she the woman that she had been--even Algive the fair,sparkling as a beam of the sun. Wan as the dead was she now, withtight-drawn lips. All day long would she walk up an
d down the cloister,up and down the garden paths, oft-times wringing her hands together.The evil mutterings grew, and tongues waxed ever louder and bolder; andsome sisters forbore not openly to cast gibes at their Abbess almostbefore her back was turned.

  I beguiled them as well as I could to leave chatter and spendthemselves in healthful work, for it was hay-harvest-tide. On a dayearly in August, the eleventh day, we bore in our last load of hay. Imind me well of that eleventh of August--sultriest day of all thatsultry month: the lift bright as glass, and cloudless altogether untilthe hour of sun-setting. All day long we laboured in the heat, stayingonly for our holy offices, the which were soon said under the roof-treeof heaven; and every sister, yea, even the Abbess Algive herself,worked as lustily as the stoutest churl. All was done at early even;the great wains rolled home to the barns, and we passed in thankfulprocession to our church, and there sang vespers, as well as we mightfor our parched throats. The evening meal was spread in the hall of theconvent: each nun stood beside her stool at the board--thinking, oneand all, I trow, of white wheaten bread, and cool cider, and eke ofdreamless slumber: at the board's head, the Abbess had but now beckonedto Godmund the Priest that he should ask blessing on our food, whenthere arose a loud clamour without, such as made even the drowsiest tostart, and we heard the voice of the portress, angry and shrill. Thenone threw open the door of the hall, and there upon the threshold stoodEarl Sweyn Godwinson, and behind him his house-carles, twenty dauntlessmen of the Danes.

  Earl Sweyn stepped within the hall, up to where the Abbess was.

  "My lady," he cried, before us all, "here am I. Come thou with me!"

  Abbess Algive would not meet his gaze. She strove a little to speak,and a whisper came.

  "Lord Earl----"

  Sweyn kept his glowing eyes upon her until at last she raised her eyesto his. Then:

  "Sweyn, Sweyn," quoth she, and went to him, putting both her hands intohis hands. She would have withdrawn them indeed, but he caught herabout the body, and laughing a little, bore her shoulder-high from herconvent hall.

  We sped to our gates, but he was already ahorse, with her before him,holding to him tightly, and his men were springing to their saddles.Out at the gates they streamed, and we after them, into the midst ofLeominster town, where they halted a little while. What a sight wasthere upon Leominster green! Small wonder that the folk thronged tostare! There were the sisters of blessed Benedict, running hither andthither as they were wode, all shrieking, some laughing, most wailingand calling upon all the saints: there lame old Father Godmund,snuffling and chiding all unheeded; in the midst of all, Sweyn theEarl, with his Danish house-carles about him, marking naught, itseemed, but a loose nail in his horse's shoe. Suddenly, one SisterSexburh, who had been ever greedy after gold and jewels and such lightthings of the world, cried with a loud voice:

  "What, good sisters! bide ye here when the road lies open before you?What of the flock when the shepherdess is fled? Must we ever wastewithin walls?" And picking up her kirtle with one hand, she set offswiftly down the high-way, with Offa the drunken thane in her wake.

  But of all that there befell--to my shame I own it--I heard no more,for now Earl Sweyn set his horse's head towards Hereford, and with himwas Algive with her arms about him; and I had no more thought of theAbbey of Leominster, of my holy oath of profession, of the needy I waswont to feed and clothe and the sick I was wont to heal; but I ranuntil I came up with Sweyn's horse, catching at his stirrup and callingout:

  "Leave me not, leave me not! Take me also, Lord Earl!"

  Sweyn made sign to one of his men that rode beside him, who, stooping,lifted me into his saddle before him, and so was I borne along,following Earl Sweyn and my Lady Algive.

  * * * * *

  From that day forth was Earl Sweyn forced to flee from shire to shire.For wheresoever he would go, the noise of his sacrilege sped beforehim. All priests of God cried out upon him throughout the length andbreadth of the land; and of the folk, the most did shun the Earl, andcurse the whole brood of Godwin.

  Then Sweyn took pen in hand, and wrote unto Edward our King, his sisterEdith the lady's lord, begging this thing of him: That whereas AlgiveAldred's daughter had taken the holy oath-plight in full early youth,for dread of her kindred, whom she might not withstand, this Algivemight now be freed of her oath, and be wedded to him, Sweyn Godwinson,as his lawful wife. Now blessed Edward was a great saint, ywiss. Didany man ill or slightingly by this Edward's self, his laws or hiskingship, then had the King towards him the kind heart of a woman: butwoe betide that one that had wrought wrong to Holy Church! He alonewould find starkness in King Edward. For him had our Lord King heart ofstone! When he had read the writing of Lord Sweyn, he cut and tore thesame in shreds, and stamping his foot upon the ground, swore by blessedDunstan's bones that Sweyn Godwinson should rue the day wherein he wasborn.

  King Edward was abiding at Winchester, and Earl Godwin and his othersons were with him. Unto his father sent Sweyn then for help, butGodwin did most straitly let that he should not come to him: nor wouldany of his brethen hold speech with Sweyn, but Harold only.

  Then was Algive the Abbess stricken with fear, and wanhope, and bitterremorse, and she fled from before Earl Sweyn, and hid herself in thehouse of a kinsman of mine own, in the borough of Pevensey, inKentland, where, try as he would, he might never come at her. Here, inthe summer of the next year, her son Haco was born.

  And about this tide was Sweyn Godwinson outlawed by Witenagemote, andbecame as a wolf, and his head as a wolf's head, and thus any man mightslay him, and yet go guiltless of blood.

  And Sweyn fled to the sea-shore, and took ship with his house-carles,and fared unto his Danish kin, and with them roved the seas a viking,for full a year and more.

  Now my Lady Algive and I abode in the house of Oswy my kinsman, aworthy chapman of the town of Pevensey, and the folk around kennednought of us nor of whence we came, believing her to be a widow and Iher maid. For King Edward and Earl Godwin had made fast unto my ladysome small means of livelihood. Thus a whole year passed from thespring of Sweyn Godwinson's forth-going, and summer was come again. Andone fine day, when my lady and I did walk forth into Pevensey market tobuy us fresh cake-bread, who should come through the market, wendingafoot, but Sweyn's cousin, Earl Beorn of the shifty eyes. He caughtsight of Algive's face beneath her wimple, as she stood by thecake-seller's booth, and halted beside her, and spake softly, near toher ear. And when my lady returned to our dwelling, Earl Beorn wentalong with her, and there talked with her alone some while.

  Often thereafter came he unto my lady Algive at my kinsman's house atPevensey--once in the week at the seldomest. What this boded I couldnot guess, but ever I misliked this Beorn more and more.

  One evening, late in summer, I, after long wandering by the shore inthe cool of the eventide, hied me home, weening that somewhat ailed mylady, and sought her in her own small chamber. I found her therein,crouched low upon the floor, white as sheeted ghost, her eyes a-stare,her mouth round-agape. Seeing me, she stumbled to her feet, and withone great sob, flung her arms about my neck and held me as she wouldnever let me go.

  "Winifred, sweet friend," then said mine alderliefest lady, "fail menot now, thou that hast followed me through weal and woe! For now mustI to a deed before which my whole being quails. Know then--EarlBeorn--he hath wooed me long to his own ends, and I withstood him,minding me that my troth is to Christ our Lord, even though I be nowdesecrate. But ever he spake of the King, and of how he, Beorn, hadlately besought him that Sweyn might come again into England, and bemade once more lord and earl, as beseemeth his father's son. And KingEdward, said he, seemed like to yield. And oh! I have but now plightedme, that if Sweyn be inlawed by his means, I will go unto Beornwhensoever he shall send for me.... O Winifred, thou wilt yet stand byme? Thou wilt go with me--on that day...? To what end my soul's weal?Is not Sweyn's life wrecked through me?"

  Seeing how it was with her, I wrestled not with her resolve
, butsoothed her crying, and swore to stand or fall by her. In the town ofPevensey I had a friend, a trusty good-wife who had been whilom of EarlGodwin's household, and loved Lord Sweyn as her own bairn. Indeed, Ihad but now learned of her that Sweyn, with his Danish ships, hung eventhen about the shores of Kent. And in his father's lordship of Boshamwere some, as I knew, that gave him food and shelter when he willed toset foot on English ground. To one of these I sent, bidding him tellSweyn the outlaw that I had that for his ear alone which must be said,and quickly. Three days later I found him, Earl Godwin's first-born,within a filthy hovel, wherein must he ever stoop that his head hit notagainst the thatch.

  Straightway I fell on my knees before him, not knowing what Iuttered--only saying over and over:

  "Lord Sweyn, Lord Sweyn, this must not be!"

  And I told to him the guilty bargain made by my Lady Algive with Beornthe Earl, for sake of him, Sweyn Godwinson.

  Scarce was my meaning clear ere his fell wrath began to gather like athunder-storm.

  "May he burn in hell-fire!" cried Sweyn. "May earth spue forth hisbody, that he come never to no burial! May the ravens of Odin pick hisbones for ever, and each day may the flesh grow upon them anew! Thetoad! The rat!--Aye, I too have trafficked with Beorn Estrithson oflate, and found him kindly and loving enough. Speak for me to the King!Shall I be inlawed? I do think for a day: and then, if I but yawn atmass, or smile at a pretty wench by the roadside, they will drive meonce more forth!"

  Then growing calmer he said:

  "Into thy keeping give I Algive. Watch well; and when Beorn would workhis wicked will, send me tidings, and I will be with them ere harm cancome to that lady."

  Honeyed words spake Earl Beorn in King Edward's ear, and within theweek was Sweyn Godwinson inlawed, and of the King bidden come andwelcome.

  On the self-same night my lady bade me wit that the hour of her dreadwas nigh. Now the King's ships were out, ready to fight with Baldwinthe Flemish Earl, but in the end King Edward willed not to war withBaldwin, so must the seamen to their own homes. It had so befallen thatthe King had sent for Harold Godwinson to Sandwich, where he was thendwelling. Earl Harold's seamen were of Devon, and would make Dartmouthon the next day, and thus must Earl Beorn be over them in their ship ofwar, in Harold's stead. At eventide would Earl Harold yield up hiscommand to Beorn his kinsman, in the haven of Pevensey; and at eventidewould Beorn have my Lady Algive come to him aboard this ship.

  Then I sent a trusty one in haste with these tidings unto Sweyn.

  As the sun was setting, my lady, hooded altogether, and leaning upon myarm, went down to the water-side. In a shed, behind heaped-up timber,crouched we hidden, and watched Earl Harold and his household men landfrom the tall warship when the shades of night were fast drawing down,and set out for the court of the King. Earl Beorn was left, and four ofhis men, and they had all eaten and drunken well.

  When all was once more still, we crept out, she and I, clomb the ladderthat yet hung adown the side, and so aboard the ship of Earl Beorn. Inthe bows lay the four seamen, heavy with the ale they had drunken: theyseemed scarce to mark our going. Now Beorn awaited her astern, in atent-room strung upon poles and screened on all sides with thickhangings, wherein he had feasted with Harold a little before. At thedoor of this tent I left her, and ran with all my haste to the ship'sside. Beneath my cloak I had carried, so warily, a little lanthorn,whose horn I had shrouded with a scrap of thin red silk. This I wavedthrice to and fro, for a token to Lord Sweyn without.

  In the twinkling of an eye, he came on out of the darkness, ten of hisDanish followers in his wake: swiftly and soundlessly they leaptaboard. They took hold on three of Beorn's men ere they could struggleor cry, gagged them, and bound them fast. The fourth saw we not at allat that time.

  Swiftly sped Sweyn towards the Earl's tent, the great battle-axe of aviking in his hand, and I beside him. Even fleeter was I, for I forgedahead, and had torn aside the hangings even as he came up with me. EarlBeorn stood within, flushed and lowering: at his feet knelt Algive, herhood wrested away, and the fingers of his right hand clasped in theshort golden curls of her hair. Beside him, as though thrust from hisway, was a light trestle-board, yet strewn with bread, broken meats,and drinking-horns: upon this board he leant unsteadily with his otherhand. Said he thickly, swaying a little:

  "By the hammer of Thor, who dare----"

  Then Sweyn glided within, and called full softly and sweetly: "Ho,Beorn Estrithson! Here is Sweyn Godwinson!"

  "Is it so?" said Beorn. "Is it so indeed? Sweyn the Outlaw! Sweyn theNithing!" His voice rose in a drunken laugh. "Godwin's son! Sweyn theson of King Canute, and of Gytha the spotless princess."

  It was the last hiss of that wicked worm. The Danish war-axe of Sweynwhistled once through the air, and smote Earl Beorn right between thebrows, and he fell heavily along the deck, and by his blood was Algiveall foully bespattered as she lay.

  And Sweyn sang loud and hoarse and high; hoarse and high and loud sanghe:

  "Utters the axe: of Sweyn the sea-rover; Lifeless he lies: the wiler of women! Blood of betrayer: is it not a sight full seemly? Haro! Haro! Aie! Haro! Lo! cries his lord: Weapon unworthy, Lop I thy head leifer, than 'gainst brave and true men bear thee! Hempen death rather his, that was sib-folk's slanderer. 'Cowards come not: To the halls of the Chosen! Haro! Haro!..."

  But of all that followed I nothing saw nor heard, for a great blow wasstricken me behind the head, and black darkness rushed down upon mineeyes and ears.

  The blood beat dully against my brow, and my head ached as it wouldsplit in twain. I lay on a day-bed, pillowed with down.

  On the ship? There had been a ship.... The fourth man! He must havefallen upon me as I stood in the tent-door.

  Nay, I was once again within four walls. There were voices of men andwomen about me. I opened mine eyes. Near-by saw I some that I kennedfull well, though they kenned not me, for often had I gazed upon thegreat ones of the land, since coming into Kent. On a settle overagainst me sat proud Lady Gytha, Earl Godwin's wife: her grief had madeher stony; her eyes were heavy, and her lips a thin, tight streak. EarlTostig stood before the empty hearth, clanking ever at the golden chainabout his neck. At the feet of his mother, upon a stool, sat Harold,holding on his knee the child Haco Sweynson.

  "Stirs she yet?" said Lady Gytha.

  "Nay, not yet," Tostig answered. I shut mine eyes, for his harsh tonesjarred and sickened me.

  "Was it Algive?" she said, right mournfully. "Has this woman once againbrought my Sweyn to nought?"

  "Lady mother," spake Earl Harold, "I was, as ye know, at Dartmouthtown, when, at dead of night, came one of my men to me. In a dark wynd,he said, armed men set upon him and held him fast, and one, whose voiceseemed the voice of Sweyn, gave into his arms this child, son of SweynGodwinson, and bade him take him thence unto me, or be slain where hestood. 'And look thou beneath the shed of Oswald the shipman, by hiswharfside,' quoth he that might be Sweyn, 'and there wilt thou beholdmore which beareth on this matter.' My man and his fellows sought thesheds of Oswald, and lo! bound hand and foot, four seamen of Beorn'sship, which Sweyn my brother sailed out of Pevensey, and the body ofBeorn Estrithson our kinsman, mangled fearfully, and eke yon poor soul,whom the men of Beorn call the Lady Algive's woman."

  Then I guessed that I was now in the house of Earl Godwin atDorchester.

  "Slain by my son!" moaned Lady Gytha. "Beorn, who won for him theKing's forgiveness!"

  "Fore God and His host of hallows!" cried Tostig bitterly. "Heavy isnow our shame! Such wantonness knows no end. Outcast of Holy Church wasSweyn Godwinson--and now black murder done on him who had befriendedhim. Shall the whole house of Godwin fall for the strayings of one?Were I King----"

  "Hold!" Harold thundered. "Never aught underhand did Sweyn, and thatthou well wittest, Tostig!"

  At this I strove to sit upright on my bed, but could not, and fellback.

  "See, she swoons no more
," said Lady Gytha, and was at my side,bringing wine in a flask.

  Then there broke in upon us Godwin the Earl, with fumbling step, hiseyes wild, his grey locks tangled and unkempt.

  "Woe worth the day!" he cried aloud unto his lady. "Woe worth the hourwherein he saw the light, this son of thine! Twice outlaw he, andNithing by the word of the armed Gemot! Foul blows where thanks wereowing--that was well done, O Sweyn! No child of mine art thouhenceforward. Harold, stand thou in his stead: thine are all the rightsof the first-born."

  He sank upon a settle, shading his countenance with his hands. LadyGytha went to him, and her tears began fast to flow. Then came Tostig'swhisper, sudden and clear as the cracking of ice:

  "What, Harold, so soon? I did think----"

  But Harold chode not with him, for the boy Haco whimpered, and he fellto soothing him in most kind wise.

  Then, by God's favour, I rose from my bed, and knelt at the feet of theEarl and his lady, and spake to them of the shameful saying of Beorn,the which had goaded Sweyn Godwinson to smite him to death. In afteryears, Lord Harold knew, but so softly spake I there that my tale washeard of Godwin and Gytha only, and no word reached the ear of Tostig.

  When I had ended, Lady Gytha arose, to pass from us all into an innerroom. And Earl Godwin arose too, and caught her arm as she went.

  "Gytha--wife"--said he--"here is it at an end! I am old, I am old,Gytha!"

  It was sooth he spake, the once stout Earl. He was an old man from thathour. But Gytha held her head high, and I knew that in her heart shewas glad for her son.

  Good folk, ye say that ye would hear yet further of Earl Sweyn and ofthe Lady Algive, who are now no more, and of how they came to theirends. Men say that King Edward would once more have pardoned this lord,Edith the Lady besought him so. But when Sweyn had put the body of EarlBeorn on shore at Dartmouth, of his eight ships, six then left him, forhis men, both Danes and English, now beheld him stained with the bloodof a kinsman. And as he sailed towards the east, in the warship ofBeorn, with one of his own ships faithfully following, the men ofHastings set forth from their haven, and hunted these craft until theyovertook and seized them. But Sweyn Godwinson they took not, nor LadyAlgive that was with him; and they twain hied them into Flanders, andthere abode all that winter. Thereafter Lord Sweyn went once morea-sea-roving, seeking forgetfulness, as I have heard.

  In the year One Thousand Fifty and One, when the townsfolk of Dover,greatly wroth, did wreak the wrongs done to them by Eustace the FrenchEarl upon the said Earl and his men, Godwin withstood the King upon themen of Dover's behalf, and was banished by King Edward beyond seas, heand all his house. Then went they also unto Baldwin's land, and Sweynmet them there, and abode with them, for he had long yearned for sightof his kindred.

  When Godwin was called back into England, they were for bringing Sweynwith them, to be inlawed, and received back into the King's trust, ButSweyn's pride was broken. He would come no more to the land of hisbirth, who had so fouled the fair fame of Godwin's house. Harold shouldstand in his stead: he would fare afar, pilgrim to the Holy Grave andCalvary Hill, that haply he might find the forgiveness of heaven. Whenthe children of Godwin returned, they had in their keeping Algive mydear lady. All this while had she been in the city of Bruges, in theward of Baldwin's daughter, Mahault, that is now Queen of the English,wife to King William. They sent for me to her, and put us to dwelltogether in the house of my kinsman at Pevensey, where we had wonedaforetime.

  Now in two years from that time began my Lady Algive to wane and towither, as a green bush when the sap no more rises. She spake little,and prayed long hours together. At last came the day, when she wentabroad no more, and often kept her bed. Then one morning early, shecalled me to her side and thus quoth she:

  "O Winifred, this month agone dreamed I a dream, one that is sooth andno vanity. I dreamed that Sweyn, my lord and my love, stood before me,the rime in his hair, his feet bruised and bleeding, and beckoned me.So I know--ask me not how--that he is no longer on life, and that Godin his goodness sendeth death to me also. But lo! another marvel. Eachmorn, as I awaken, I hear the ring of footsteps that come from a farfrozen land. Each morn, I say, are these footsteps louder and nigher;but Sweyn comes not at all any more."

  This was at the winter-tide. Early in the next summer, my good friend,she who had been of the household of Gytha, sent to let me wit that anholy priest and pilgrim was lately come from the East, bearing tidingswhich my lady should hear. To our house-door came he, and I led himwithin to my lady, where she lay. And this was his tale, told in fewwords:

  "Good wives, as I journeyed hither from the Holy City, I traversed theland of Lycia, where they have a winter more bitter than any winter weEnglish know. And one evening came one to our fellowship, saying thatyonder, beneath the roof of an holy hermit, lay a man of the north,they thought of the Island of the Angles, sick unto death. I followedthis Lycian, seeking my countryman, and found him, a mighty manaforetime, I ween, but now so wasted with his wanderings that he seemedto have no flesh, but only skin and bone. And when I would shrive andhousel him, thus he spake: 'Priest, know that I am Sweyn the Nithing,first-born son of Earl Godwin, and whilom Earl in fair England, fromHereford even unto Oxenford! Woe for the sins of unbridled youth! Ihave profaned the Holy Church of Christ, and have wrought murder, evenupon my kinsman, when the red wrath boiled in my blood--aye, and theguilt of mine own father's death is also upon me, most wretched! Sincethese things done have I known no peace until this hour, wherein Ileave my life.'

  "Soon after died he of the cold."

  Now about an hour after this pilgrim had given over speaking, AlgiveAldred's daughter went forth from the bitterness of the world to theunbounded mercy of God.

  As for Haco Sweynson, he fell fighting by King Harold upon Senlacfield.

  And I, Winifred, daughter of Ebba, yet live on, and pray in each hourto Our Lord Christ and to Mary mild, His Mother, that the souls ofthese twain, Sweyn and Algive, may be cleansed of every foul stain. Forthough their sins were many and great, yet scorned they none, nor lied,nor ever betrayed any but themselves, neither ground down the needywhen that might was theirs; and verily and indeed they loved much; andI, who have sinned my share, God wot! do faithfully hope to meet themboth again ere long in the fair, shining meads of Paradise.