“Dost thou know aught of the harp, and how the maid came by it?” demanded the ealdorman, moved by the look of despair on the maiden’s face. “Take the instrument, and look at it. Declarest thou, woman, that thou hast never beheld it before?”
The woman took up the harp and looked at it closely.
“Many and oft are the times that I have seen it,” she said, with an appearance of candor. “It is that of Edwy the gleeman.”
“How knowest thou?”
“Once he did ask that I clean it for him. Here, my lord, is where by accident I scratched the wood when I had holpen him.”
“And thou gavest it not to the maid?” The ealdorman was plainly disappointed.
“No, my lord,” declared the woman positively. “Why should I give to the girl Edwy’s harp?”
The gerefa turned to Egwina who, with pale face, listened to the woman’s denial.
“Thou hearest what the woman hath deposed. Is there aught else that thou hast to say before thy doom be pronounced upon thee?”
Egwina was troubled. “I know not what to say,” she said, despairingly. “The truth have I declared to thee, my lord—the truth, and naught but the truth. This is she who gave me the harp. Why she should gainsay the fact, I know not. But as my soul liveth, I declare to thee that I am innocent of this charge which hath been brought against me. It hath been borne in upon my mind that malice hath been at work, and that Ælfric hath arranged the matter; that for vengeance sake he hath testified falsely, and wrought this evil.”