"Honourable brothers," said Ansgar, "our resources are nearly exhausted. The city is threatened with assault, and no army comes to our aid."
"True," murmured the citizens.
"Such," continued Ansgar, "is our situation; but when strength is exhausted, when courage can do no more, artifice and stratagem still remain. I advise you to resort to them."
"In what way?" asked the citizens.
"The enemy," answered Ansgar, "is not yet aware of our miserable position: let us profit by that circumstance, and send them fair words by a man capable of deceiving them, who will feign to convey your submission, and, in sign of peace, will lay his hand in theirs if required."
"Yes," cried the citizens: "we will, in that case, be able to obtain a suspension of hostilities, and protract negotiations until the arrival of succours."
After this scene, in which Ansgar skilfully acted his part, his counsel was enthusiastically adopted. But the messenger sent to delude William returned to London devoted to the Norman duke's cause, and gave so flattering a report of the Conqueror, that the citizens became eager to acknowledge such a man as King of England. The feeling proved marvellously contagious, and London was soon under the influence of one of those popular outbursts which nothing can resist.
"What should be done?" asked Ansgar.
"Let the keys of the city be carried to Duke William," was the answer.
The warriors and prelates who surrounded Edgar Atheling were probably somewhat surprised at this sudden resolution, and they were certainly in no position to restrain or counteract it. They therefore yielded to the current; and the young king, accompanied by the two archbishops, Stigand and Aldred, by Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester, and by the chief citizens, proceeded to Berkhampstead to make their submission. On presenting themselves to the Conqueror they swore fidelity, gave hostages, and received his promise to be gentle and clement. William regarded the grandson of Ironsides with interest, kissed the boy tenderly, and spoke to him with kindness. Doubtless, in the eye of a prince of Edgar Atheling's age, a dog and a pony would have seemed more to be desired than the crown and throne of England; nor can it be said that, in after years, when his valour and his capacity had been proved, he ever looked back with excessive regret to the crown he had lost and the throne from which he had been excluded.