CHAPTER IV.
Prince Edwin was not greatly alarmed, for he thought the king, his brother, was only going to banish him to some foreign country, where he fondly thought that Wilfrid and himself might live together very happily. But when they were out of sight of land, and the moon had risen over a wild waste of stormy billows, the king had both the prisoners brought upon deck, and he then ordered the captain to put them into a small boat and set them adrift at the mercy of the winds and waves.
It was to no purpose that the wretched Edwin threw himself at his brother's feet, and entreated for mercy. Athelstane only replied, "You tried to persuade my faithful cup-bearer to take my life—your own life, therefore, is forfeited; but, as you are the son of my royal father, I will not shed your blood upon the scaffold. I commit you and your guilty companion, the son of the traitor Cendric, to the mercy of God, who can and will preserve the innocent if it be his good pleasure so to do."
"And to His mercy, not thine, O king! do I, in full confidence of innocence, commend both myself and my unfortunate master," said Wilfrid, as the seamen hurried him, with the weeping Atheling, over the side of the vessel into the little boat that lay tossing and rocking among the tempestuous billows.
When the unhappy youths found themselves alone, without sails or rudder, on the pathless ocean, they sank into each other's arms and wept long and passionately.
At length Wilfrid lifted up his voice and heart in fervent prayer to that Almighty and merciful God, who had delivered Daniel from the lions' den, and preserved his faithful servants, Meshach, Shadrach and Abednego, unharmed in the fiery furnace. Prince Edwin, on the contrary, gave himself up to despair, and when he saw the king's ship spreading her canvas to the gale, and fast receding from his sight, he uttered a cry that was heard above the uproar of the winds and waves. Starting up in the boat, and extending his arms toward the disappearing vessel, he unwittingly lost his balance, and was in a moment ingulfed in the stormy billows.
We may imagine the anguish and terror of Wilfrid on witnessing the sad fate of his young lord, which he had no power to prevent. Thoughts of his widowed mother's grief for himself, too, came over his mind and filled his eyes with tears, for her, as well as for his ill-fated lord. For himself, however, he felt no fears, even in this dreadful hour, when left companionless on the tempestuous ocean, for his trust was firm and steadfast in the mercies of his Heavenly Father.
That night the winds roared, and the waves raged mightily. Many a gallant bark foundered in the storm, and many a skillful seaman found a watery grave before the morning dawned in the cloudy horizon. But the frail vessel into which the unfortunate Atheling and his page had been thrust, weathered the gale and, with her lonely tenant, Wilfrid, was driven ashore at a place called Whitesande, on the coast of Picardy, in France.
When Wilfrid landed, he was drenched through and through. He was hungry, too, and sorrowful and weary. He knew not where he was, but he failed not to return thanks to that gracious God who had preserved him from the perils of the raging seas to which he had been so awfully exposed, and whose merciful providence, he doubted not, would guide and sustain him in the strange land whither he had been conducted.
Thus meekly, thus nobly, did the young page support himself under this fresh trial. But when the remembrance of the unfortunate Atheling, his royal master, came over him, his heart melted within him; he bowed his face on his knees as he sat all lonely on the sea beach, and he wept aloud, exclaiming—
"Oh, Edwin! royal Edwin! hadst thou patiently trusted in the mercy of God thou slightest, notwithstanding thy late adversity, have lived to wear the crown of thy father Edward." Overpowered by his emotions, he again sank upon the ground.
"Is it of Edwin of England that thou speakest, young Saxon?" asked a soft voice in the sweet familiar language of his own native land.
He raised his head and found that he was surrounded by a party of ladies, one of whom questioned him with an air of eager interest respecting the expressions he had used touching the unfortunate Prince Edwin.
Now this lady was no other than Ogina, Queen of France, the sister of Prince Edwin. Being on a visit at the house of a great lord on the coast of Picardy, she had come down to the beach that morning, with her ladies of honor, to bathe: a custom among ladies, even of the highest rank, in those days. Hearing that a Saxon bark had been driven on shore by the storm, and seeing the disconsolate figure of Wilfrid on the beach, she had drawn near, and, unperceived by the suffering youth, had overheard his melancholy soliloquy.
While Wilfrid related the sad story of his master's untimely fate, the royal lady wept aloud. After he had concluded his melancholy tale, she took him to the castle of which she was herself an inmate, and commended him to the care of her noble host, who quickly attended to all his wants, and furnished him with dry garments.
When Wilfrid had taken due rest and refreshment, the queen requested that he should be brought into her presence. He was, accordingly, ushered into a stately apartment, where Ogina was seated under a crimson canopy, fringed with gold. She bade him draw near, and extended her hand toward him. Being well acquainted with courtly customs, the youth respectfully bowed his knee and humbly kissed the hand of the royal lady, who proceeded to say,—
"Thou hast been found true when the only reward thou didst expect for thy faithfulness was a cruel death. But surely thou hast been conducted by a kind Providence into the presence of one who has both the will and the power to requite thee for thy fidelity to the unfortunate Atheling; for I am his sister, the Queen of France."
"And I have then the honor to stand before the royal Ogina, daughter of my late lord, King Edward, and Queen of King Charles of France?" said Wilfrid, again bowing himself.
"The same," replied the queen, taking a ring of great value from her finger and placing it on that of the page.
"Take this ring," continued she, "in token of my favor; and if thou wilt serve me in one thing, I will make thee the greatest lord in my husband's court."
"Royal lady," said Wilfrid, "I have a widowed mother in my own land whom I cannot forsake; neither would I desert my native country to become a peer of France. But tell me wherein I can be of service to thee, and if it be in my power it shall be done."
"Darest thou," said the queen, "return to England and presenting thyself before my brother Athelstane, thy king, declare to him the innocence and the sad fate of Edwin, the Atheling, his father's son?"
"Lady, I not only dare, but I desire so to do," replied Wilfrid; "for I fear my God, and I have no other fear."
Then the Queen of France loaded Wilfrid with rich presents, and sent him over to England in a gallant ship to bear the mournful tidings of poor Prince Edwin's death to England's king. She thought that when Athelstane should hear the sad tale told in the pathetic language of the faithful page, his heart would be touched with remorse for what he had done.
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."
"Traitor," said the king, turning to Brithric, "thy false tongue hath not only slain my brother, but thyself! Thou shalt die for having wickedly induced me to become his murderer!"
"And thou wilt live, O king, to suffer the pangs of an upbraiding conscience," replied the culprit. "Where was thy wisdom, where thy discrimination, where thy sense of justice, when thou lent so ready an ear to my false and improbable accusations against thy boyish brother? I sought my own aggrandizement—and to have achieved that I would have destroyed thee and placed him upon the throne. I made him my tool—you became my dupe—and I now myself fall a victim to my own machinations."
The guards then removed Brithric from the royal presence, and the next day he met with his deserts in a public execution.
As for the faithful Wilfrid, King Athelstane not only caused the lands and titles of which his father, Cendric, had been deprived, to be restored to him, but also conferred upon him great honors and rewards. He lived to be the pride and comfort of his widowed mother, Ermengarde, and ever afterward enjoyed the full confidence of the king.
The royal Athelstane never ceased to lament the death of his unfortunate brother, Edwin. He gained many great victories, and reigned long and gloriously over England, but he was evermore tormented by remorse of conscience for his conduct toward his youthful brother, Prince Edwin.