Egwina turned and looked the speaker full in the face.
“Well hast thou spoken, Denewulf,” she said.
“Egwina! is it truly thou?” and the bishop, for he was none other than Denewulf, the swineherd, whom the king had appointed to this position, seized the maiden’s hands. “Dear child, is it thus that I see thee at last?”
“It is thus, Denewulf,” answered Egwina, sadly. “Where is Adiva? I knew not that thou wert the bishop.”
“Unworthy am I of so great an estate,” said Denewulf, humbly, “but the king hath thought otherwise. Adiva is well and with me. Much will she rejoice to see thee, my child, for little have we known of thee for some time. How comes it that thou art not with the king, but lie in my hands, accused of theft and subjected to the ordeal?”
“’Tis a long story,” said Egwina. “Take me to Adiva, dear Denewulf, and then will I tell thee of all that hath befallen me, and why I am with thee to be shriven for the ordeal.”
“My lord bishop, is the maiden known to thee?” exclaimed the ealdorman, in surprise. “Belongeth she to the king?”
“She doth,” answered Denewulf, sternly. “If harm doth come to her, greatly will ye have to answer to the king.”
“Truly, my lord, we knew not that the girl was of the king’s household,” cried the ealdorman, with humility. “Yet, unknowing the fact, have I believed her guiltless of the theft.”
“True,” said Egwina, smiling at him, gratefully. “He alone hath shown even a faint belief in mine innocence.”