“All hail, Harold, heir of Godwin the great, and Githa the king-born! Thou hast obeyed Hilda, and thou knowest now that Hilda’s eyes read the future, and her lips speak the dark words of truth. Bow thy heart to the Vala, and mistrust the wisdom that sees only the things of the daylight. As the valour of the warrior and the song of the scald, so is the lore of the prophetess. It is not of the body, it is soul within soul; it marshals events and men, like the valour—it moulds the air into substance, like the song. Bow thy heart to the Vala. Flowers bloom over the grave of the dead. And the young plant soars high, when the king of the woodland lies low!”
CHAPTER VI.
The sun rose, and the stairs and passages without were filled with the crowds that pressed to hear news of the Earl’s health. The doors stood open, and Gurth led in the multitude to look their last on the hero of council and camp, who had restored with strong hand and wise brain the race of Cerdic to the Saxon throne. Harold stood by the bed-head silent, and tears were shed and sobs were heard. And many a thegn who had before half believed in the guilt of Godwin as the murderer of Alfred, whispered in gasps to his neighbour:
“There is no weregeld for manslaying on the head of him who smiles so in death on his old comrades in life!”
Last of all lingered Leofric, the great Earl of Mercia; and when the rest had departed, he took the pale hand, that lay heavy on the coverlid, in his own, and said:
“Old foe, often stood we in Witan and field against each other; but few are the friends for whom Leofric would mourn as he mourns for thee. Peace to thy soul! Whatever its sins, England should judge thee mildly, for England beat in each pulse of thy heart, and with thy greatness was her own!”
Then Harold stole round the bed, and put his arms round Leofric’s neck, and embraced him. The good old Earl was touched, and he laid his tremulous hands on Harold’s brown locks and blessed him.
“Harold,” he said, “thou succeedest to thy father’s power: let thy father’s foes be thy friends. Wake from thy grief, for thy country now demands thee,—the honour of thy House, and the memory of the dead. Many even now plot against thee and thine. Seek the King, demand as thy right thy father’s earldom, and Leofric will back thy claim in the Witan.”
Harold pressed Leofric’s hand, and raising it to his lips replied: “Be our Houses at peace henceforth and for ever.”