CHAPTER II.
"Now mama," "Now auntie," cried half a dozen little voices at once, as Mrs. Macdonald and her sister closed their books, and drew their chairs close to the fire, on the following evening.
"One moment to collect my thoughts, dear children," said Mrs. Macdonald, stirring the fire, and taking one of her shivering little nieces on her lap, whilst Alfred secured his aunt's knee, seeing that his accustomed place was occupied.
"The scene I shall describe to-night is laid in a hall, where tables are spread for a feast: the preparations are certainly not so costly as some we might see now-a-days; for instead of carpets, rushes are laid on the floor; the walls appear to be made of wood, interlaced with osiers; the windows are filled up, some with cloth, and others with lattice work, instead of glass; there are no grates or fire-places; nevertheless the table is covered with clean white linen, and each person has a separate drinking horn, a mess of pottage, a wooden knife and spoon; whilst on the wall are hung two or three wooden harps. The entertainment seems to have been interrupted by the entrance of a wild looking man, with whom he who appears to be a king is engaged in close combat. The king holds the robber by the hair of his head; but the latter contrives to plunge a dagger into the heart of his youthful opponent."
There was a long pause after Mrs. Macdonald had ceased speaking, and many were the whisperings between the young people.
"Give it up," cried Alfred, tired of the silence.
"It was a Saxon king, was it not, aunt?" asked Edward, a pale, quiet boy, the eldest of the group.
"Quite right, my dear; and as you have guessed so soon, perhaps you will try and puzzle me in your turn."
Edward blushed, and after a few minutes' hesitation, described the following picture:—
"A king, surrounded by some of his officers, is seated in a large room; his dress and the furniture of the apartment show more cleanliness than luxury; brave, rough men are on bended knee before him; whilst their attendants are bringing in wolves' heads, and laying them at the feet of the king."
"Every one of them was obliged to bring three hundred heads yearly, were they not?" said Mrs. Macdonald.
"Yes, aunt; I am afraid I cannot puzzle you."
When the subject was more clearly made known, Annie asked, "Are there any wolves in Wales now, mama? I should be afraid to live there."
"No, my dear; as men have become more civilized, and the country more full of people, these and other wild animals have been driven into smaller spaces, until at last they have all been killed. This is not only the case in England, but in other countries; where colonies are spreading over formerly wild tracts of land, the wilder animals are fast disappearing."
"I am glad of it," rejoined Annie, drawing closer to her mother's knee, and looking round as if a wolf had been behind her.
"I will now describe a picture," said Mrs. Arabin. "At the gate of a castle, situated in a country where the ground near the sea never appears to rise into high hills, but spreads itself in undulating downs, we see a mild-looking young man on horseback. His horse is much heated; he wears a hunting-horn by his side, whilst thirsty dogs seem to envy their master the cup he is putting to his lips. An elderly woman, with sharp eyes, but a gracious smile on her face, has scarcely withdrawn her hand after presenting her young visitor with the cup, whilst a servant is at this moment plunging a dagger into the shoulder of the fair-haired youth on horseback."
The subject of this description was exclaimed by many little voices as soon as Mrs. Arabin had ceased to speak.
Canute and his Courtiers.
Annie spoke next "of a king dressed in his royal robes, seated on the sea-shore; he looks calmly and quietly at the waves, which roll one over another in beautiful succession, splashing his face with their silvery spray, and wetting his feet with their briny waters, whilst the sea-weeds cling to his regal attire. The courtiers are eagerly watching the waves, any thing but pleasure depicted in their countenances, and they look very much afraid of getting wet. The king is pointing with one hand to a mark set in the sand, over which the ocean is proudly dashing."
"Oh, Annie! that is too easy," exclaimed Mary.
"Not at all," interrupted Mrs. Arabin, "if it teach us to remember the lesson which the story is so well able to teach."
Mrs. Macdonald then proceeded to describe a scene where a haughty, fierce-looking man is standing by an open grave, from which his attendant soldiers are taking a body; the pale features of the corpse appear to resemble those of the proud king, who points to his followers to convey the body to the adjacent river. The bystanders are clothed in loose dresses like a carter's frock, bound round the waist by a belt, and only reaching to the knee; some have iron collars round their necks; most of them are bare-headed, but a few wear fur caps over their long hair, which, parted on the forehead, hangs down in straight locks on each side of the face. Their beards are shaven on the upper lip, and on the top of the chin; the rest long, clean and neat, divided in the middle, hangs down in two points; their shoes come up very high.
"Is that really in English history?" asked Louisa.
"Yes, my dear, about 1035."
Edward rejoined, "Canute ascended the throne 1017—he reigned eighteen years. I know, dear auntie."
Mrs. Arabin next began:—"My story is one which ought to lead us to stop and reflect; it relates to a banqueting hall, where a king and a wary-looking courtier are sitting together surrounded by attendants. The king looks earnestly and reproachfully at the nobleman, to whom he points with one hand, whilst the other is directed towards his own breast. The courtier, with a proud, defying look, yet with a lurking expression of conscious guilt, is raising a piece of bread to his half-opened mouth."
None of the party seemed able to guess this story, and even Mrs. Macdonald herself looked puzzled. Just then the door opened, and the words "Please, ma'am, the nursery tea is ready," interrupted the amusement for this evening.
Aunt Mary was then obliged quickly to tell, how that piece of bread choked the ambitious man, who so wickedly exclaimed that he hoped the next morsel might be his last, if he had ever intended any ill against his king.
"Are not those dangerous sands off the coast of Kent supposed to mark the possessions of this designing earl?" asked Edward.
"Yes, my love, and therefore I contend that the name should be spelt with but one o, thus restoring it to its purer Saxon form."
1. Death of Edmund. A.D. 948.
2. Welsh tribute.
3. Death of Edward the Martyr. A.D. 979.
4. Canute. A.D. 1017.
5. Harold. A.D. 1035.
6. Death of Earl Godwin. A.D. 1041.