[CHAPTER XXIV]. THE ORDEAL.
The news of the murder of Edmund spread far and wide, and awakened deep sorrow and indignation, not only amongst his friends and subjects, but even amongst his former enemies, the Danes, now rapidly yielding to the civilising and softening influences of Christianity, following therein the notable example of their king, Canute, who was everywhere restoring the churches and monasteries he and his had destroyed, and saying, with no faltering voice, albeit, perhaps, with a very inadequate realisation of all the words implied, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."
Ealdorman and thane came flocking into Oxenford from all the neighbouring districts of Wessex and Mercia. The body of the lamented monarch was laid in state in St. Frideswide's; there wax tapers shed a hallowed light on the sternly composed features of him who had been the bulwark of England; and there choking sobs and bitter sighs every hour rent the air, and bore witness to a nation's grief. And there, two heartbroken ladies, a mother and a daughter, came often to pray, not only for the soul of the departed king, but also for the discovery of his murderers and the clearing of the innocent, for neither Hilda nor Ethelgiva for one moment doubted the spotless innocence of Alfgar.
They were refused admittance to the cell wherein he was confined by Edric, who had assumed the direction of all things, and whose claim, such is the force of impudence, seemed to be tacitly allowed by the thanes and ealdormen of Wessex.
But Elfwyn and Herstan could hardly be denied permission to visit him, owing to their positions, and they both did so. They found him in a chamber occupying the whole of the higher floor of a tower of the castle, which served as a prison for the city and neighbourhood, rudely but massively built. One solitary and deep window admitted a little air and light, but the height rendered all escape hopeless, even had the victim wished to escape, which he did not.
"Alfgar, my son!" said Elfwyn, finding the poor prisoner did not speak, "do you not know us?"
"Indeed I do; but do you believe me guilty, nay, even capable of --"
He could add no more, but they saw that if they doubted they would hear no more from him--that he scorned self-defence.
"Guilty!--no, God forbid! we alone in the council asserted your complete innocence."
"I thank you; you have taken away the bitterness of death--and Ethelgiva?"