“Everything hath been tried,” said Siegbert, and again Egwina felt that strange throbbing of the heart as he spake. “Everything; but Hilda thinketh that nothing will cure her save a visit to the tomb of Cuthbert.”
“Then why doth she not go?” asked Egwina. “Could she not be taken there?”
“No, maiden.” The Saxon’s voice was grave. “When the Danes spread over the country, destroying the monasteries, Cuthbert’s remains were taken up and carried away by the monks when they fled. Now, none know where they be.”
“I feel sure that King Alfred will know,” cried Egwina. “He hath rebuilt the monasteries, and oh! I know that he will know.”
“Thinkest thou so?” cried Hilda with eagerness. “I will tell my father and he will send to the king.”
She sat up, and seemed much better and stronger for the hope that was infused into her.
“Hadst thou not better return now, Hilda?” asked Siegbert. “Thou hast stayed out long enow for one day.”
“Nay, I would talk more with the maiden,” returned Hilda. “So soon as I return will I get my father to send bode to King Alfred to ask of him where lie the bones of Cuthbert. Maiden, believest thou in runes of the volva?”
Egwina shook her head.
“The runes tell me of speedy death,” said Hilda.