"Then you actually put your head in the lion's mouth, prince?" and the good bishop, purposely to relieve the prince's mind, drew out from him all the story of his late adventures.
Deep was the distrust which Ednoth himself entertained of the fair-speaking Edric, yet he would not encourage the Etheling in further ill-timed opposition to his father.
So at last Edmund slept, and trusted that with the morn he should find Alfgar; but the morn came, and all his inquiries were vain.
The chamber in which Alfgar was confined contained a box-like recess for the straw bed, a chair, and a rough table, and these were all the comforts at his disposal, but they were enough for one in that hardy age. It was very strongly built, not a loose plank about it, although the wind found its way through numerous crevices, to the slight discomfort of the inmate.
But not one hour of sleep could Alfgar take all that night. What would the Etheling think of him? was his constant thought, he who had saved his life at the risk of his (the Etheling's) own. Must he not think that the lad whose life he had saved had been false to him? and this thought was agony to the faithful and true heart of the prisoner.
He scarcely doubted for one moment into whose hands he had fallen--that he was in Edric Streorn's power. The only thing he could not quite comprehend was, why they had thought it worth while to imprison him, when murder would seem the more convenient mode of removing an unpleasant witness.
Early on the following day he heard some people approach the door of the house, and heard them admitted. Shortly afterwards a firm step ascended the stair, and the door opened.
Edric Streorn stood before him.
The captor eyed his captive with a look of conscious pride, and said with some complacence, "You see, and perhaps repent, your rashness in the accusation you made."
"It was true."