“How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your future king?”
“I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who has committed the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in the discharge of my duty ‘dare’ is a superfluous word. Will you, as I said before, both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves to do so?”
The import of all this was seen at a glance, but there was no course but submission, and Edwy well knew how utterly indefensible his conduct was; so, with crestfallen gait, he and Elfric followed their captor to the river, where was another large boat by the side of their own. They entered it, and returned to the palace stairs much more sober than on previous occasions.
CHAPTER VII.
“THE KING IS DEAD!—LONG LIVE THE KING!”
The unhappy Elfric passed the night in a most unenviable frame of mind. He felt distinctly how utterly he was in the power of Dunstan, and that he could only expect to return home in disgrace; yet there was no real repentance in all this: he had sinned and suffered, but although he dreaded punishment he no longer hated sin.
He scarcely slept at all, and early in the morning he rose to seek an interview with Edwy, when he found that he was a prisoner. One of the hus-carles posted at his door forbade all communication.
Early in the morning the bell sounded for the early service, still he was not released, and later his breakfast was brought to him, after which he heard a heavy step approaching, and Dunstan appeared at the door of the sleeping chamber.
He entered, and gazed at Elfric for a moment without speaking, as if he would read his very heart by his face; it was hardly comfortable.
“Elfric,” he said at last, “do you remember the warning I gave you six months ago?”
“No,” said Elfric, determined, in desperation, to deny everything.