European chivalry, where the fierce barbarian Northmen were becoming the
refined but ruthless Normans. Then, in England, he had wormed himself
into the confidence of the future king with singular astuteness, and at
length had found the occasion he had long sought, in a manner the most
unforeseen save as a possible contingency.

And now he turned from the battlements to his own chamber, but on the
way he paused, for he passed the door of the late thane's room, where
poor Elfric lay. He passed the sentinel and entered. The unhappy boy was
extended on the bed, in a raging fever; ever and anon he called
piteously upon his father, then he cried out that Dunstan was pursuing
him, driving him into the pit, then he cried--"Father, I did not
murder thee; not I, thy son! nay, I always loved thee in my heart. Who
is laughing? it is not Dunstan; break his chamber open, slay him: is a
monk's blood redder than a peasant's? O Elgiva hast thou slain my
father? See, I am all on fire; it is thy doing. Edwy, my king, Dunstan
is burning me: save me!"

Then there was a long pause, and Redwald or Ragnar as we may now call
him stood over his unhappy cousin. The fair head lay back on the pillow,
with its profusion of golden locks; the face was red and fiery, the eyes
weak and bloodshot.

"Water! water! I burn!" he said.

There was no cooling medicine to alleviate the burning throat, no gentle
hand to smooth the pillow, no mother to render the sweet offices of
maternal love, no father to whisper forgiveness to the dying boy.

"Better he should die thus," said Ragnar, "since I cannot spare him