ever rebellious, even in boyhood, and arrived at man's estate in the
midst of unsettled times of war and tumult. Weary of the restraints of
home, he joined a band of Danish marauders, and shared their victories,
enriching himself with the spoils of his own countrymen. Thus he
remained an outlaw, for his father disowned him in consequence of his
crime, until, fighting against his own people in the great battle of
Brunanburgh, [iv] where Athelstane so gloriously conquered the allied
Danes, Scots, and Welsh, he was taken prisoner.

The victor king sat in judgment upon the recreant, surrounded by his
chief nobility and vassal kings. The guilt of the prisoner was evident,
nay undenied, and the respect in which his sire was held alone delayed
the doom of a cruel death from being pronounced upon him.

While the council yet deliberated, Offa appeared amongst them, and, like
a second Brutus, took his place amongst his peers. Disclaiming all
personal interest in the matter, he sternly proposed that the claims of
justice should be satisfied.

Yet they hesitated to shed Oswald's blood: the alternative they adopted
was perhaps not more merciful--although a common doom in those times.
They selected a crazy worm-eaten boat, and sent the criminal to sea,
without sail, oar, or rudder, with a loaf of bread and cruse of water,
the wind blowing freshly from off the land.

Oswald was never heard of again; but after his supposed death,
information was brought to his father that the outlaw had been married
to a Danish woman, and had left a son--an orphan--for the mother
died in childbirth.