"Is this a time to talk of vengeance?" said a voice near Cædwalla. "Rather humble thyself before the strong hand of the Almighty, and give Him thanks that thou art yet in the land of the living, when so many souls have gone unregenerate, unbaptised, to their last account. Man, swear not such awful curses. There may come a time when they will recoil on thine own head."
"Who is this that dares to rebuke Cædwalla?" said the king haughtily.
"A poor servant of the Lord—one Malachi, of Boseham."
Ædric had turned joyfully at the voice, and felt new hope for his brother.
"Oh! brother Malachi, come here; see what has happened to Wulfstan."
"What! Ædric, my son; hast thou come to this sinful and blood-guilty land? And how are Father Dicoll and brother Corman? Verily my heart yearns for news of them."
"Oh, Malachi, I will tell thee all about them while thou art looking at Wulfstan; but do tell me if he is alive?"
Malachi stooped down—he had brought some balsam with him, and a few remedies—and he gently examined the wounded boy. With a very grave face he signed to Ceolwulf to let him feel his pulse, and then said, "Canst thou make a shelter for him here? it will be better to keep him quite quiet if we can."
Ceolwulf nodded assent, and Cædwalla directed some of the sails of the boats to be brought up, and a shelter was soon made.
"Deva will be here soon," said Malachi. "She has got some food with her. We will make some strong broth for him."