“What could the old woman do with it all?”
“Thirdly, you have not maintained justice in your judicial proceedings, but have spent all your time, like Rehoboam of old, with the young and giddy, and in chastising your people with scorpions.”
“Would I had a scorpion to chastise you! This is unbearable.
“My lords and counsellors, have you not a word to say for me?”
“Alas!” said Athelwold, “it is all too true; but give up Elgiva now, and all will be well!”
“It will be at least the beginning of reformation,” said Odo.
“And the end, I suppose,” said Edwy, “will be that I shall shave my head like a monk, banquet sumptuously upon herbs and water, spend three-fourths of the day singing psalms through my nose, wear a hair shirt, look as starved as a weasel, and at last, after sundry combats with the devil, pinch his nose, and go off to heaven in all the odour of sanctity. Go and preach all this to Edgar; I am not fool enough to listen to it. You have got him to be your obedient slave and vassal; you have bought him, body and soul, and the price has been Mercia, and now you want to add Wessex. Well, I wish you joy of him, and him of you all; for my part, if I could do it, I would restore the worship of Odin and Thor, and offer you priests as bloody sacrifices to him: I would!”
“Peace, my lord and king! peace! this is horrible,” said Athelwold.
“Horrible!” said another. “He is possessed. My lord Odo, you had better exorcise him.”
But Edwy had given way—he was young—and burst into a passionate fit of weeping, his royal dignity all forgotten.