"The wily tyrant shall find that Edwin the Atheling is not to be so
treated," exclaimed the prince, yielding to a burst of passion.

"You have no remedy, my lord," said Brithric; "for the people love the
usurper, and know nothing of his imprisoned brother, Edwin, the
rightful king of England."

"And shall I always be immured, like a captived thrush?" asked Edwin,
indignantly.

"Yes, while Athelstane lives, you must expect no other fate," said
Brithric. "But what if Athelstane should die?" continued he, fixing
his eyes on the face of the prince.

"Oh! hear him not, my lord," cried Wilfrid, flinging himself at the
Atheling's feet; "he would tempt you to a crime as deadly as that of
Cain."

"Peace, son of Cendric, the traitor!" exclaimed Prince Edwin, leveling
at the same time a blow at his faithful page, which felled him to the
earth, where he lay covered with blood, and apparently without sense or
motion.

"And now speak on, my loving Brithric," continued the Atheling, without
paying the slightest regard to the condition of poor Wilfrid, who was,
however, perfectly aware of all that was passing, though, to all
appearance, insensible.

"My lord," said Brithric, drawing nearer to the Atheling, "I will now
speak plainly. I am the cup-bearer of King Athelstane, and the next