The scene, as pictured to us in the chronicles of the monks, was a
picturesque and inspiring one. The hill selected for the meeting
overlooked the ocean. King Ethelbert, with Queen Bertha by his side,
awaited in state his visitors. Around were grouped the warriors of Kent
and the priests of Odin. Silence reigned, and in the distance the monks
could be seen advancing in solemn procession, singing as they came. He
who came first bore a large silver crucifix. Another carried a banner
with the painted image of Christ. The deep and solemn music, the
venerable and peaceful aspect of the strangers, the solemnity of the
occasion, touched the heart of Ethelbert, already favorably inclined, as
we may believe, to the faith of his loved wife.

Augustine had brought interpreters from Gaul. By their aid he conveyed
to the king the message he had been sent to bring. Ethelbert listened in
silence, the queen in rapt attention, the warriors and priests doubtless
with varied sentiments. The appeal of Augustine at an end, Ethelbert
spoke.

"Your words are fair," he said, "but they are new, and of doubtful
meaning. For myself, I propose to worship still the gods of my fathers.
But you bring peace and good words; you are welcome to my kingdom; while
you stay here you shall have shelter and protection."

His land was a land of plenty, he told them; food, drink, and lodging
should be theirs, and none should do them wrong; England should be their
home while they chose to stay.

With these words the audience ended. Augustine and his monks fell again
into procession, and, with singing of psalms and display of holy