Dead Mans Plack and an Old Thorn | Page 7

him warmly, and was quick

to observe a change in him--the thinner, paler face and appearance
generally of one lately recovered from a grievous illness or who had
been troubled in mind. Athelwold explained that it had been a painful
visit to him, due in the first place to the anxiety he experienced of being
placed in so responsible a position, and in the second place the misery
it was to him to be the guest for many days of such a person as the
earldoman, a man of a rough, harsh aspect and manner, who daily made
himself drunk at table, after which he would grow intolerably garrulous
and boastful. Then, when his host had been carried to bed by his
servants, his own wakeful, troubled hours would begin. For at first he
had been struck by the woman's fine, handsome presence, albeit she
was not the peerless beauty she had been reported; but when he had
seen her often and more closely and had conversed with her he had
been disappointed. There was something lacking; she had not the
softness, the charm, desirable in a woman; she had something of her
parent's harshness, and his final judgment was that she was not a
suitable person for the king to marry.
Edgar was a little cast down at first, but quickly recovering his genial
manner, thanked his friend for having served him so well.
For several weeks following the king and the king's favourite were
constantly together; and during that period Athelwold developed a
peculiar sweetness and affection towards Edgar, often recalling to him
their happy boyhood's days in East Anglia, when they were like
brothers, and cemented the close friendship which was to last them for
the whole of their lives. Finally, when it seemed to his watchful, crafty
mind that Edgar had cast the whole subject of his wish to marry Elfrida
into oblivion, and that the time was now ripe for carrying out his own
scheme, he reopened the subject, and said that although the lady was
not a suitable person to be the king's wife it would be good policy on
his, Athelwold's, part, to win her on account of her position as only
daughter and part heiress of Ongar, who had great power and
possessions in the West. But he would not move in the matter without
Edgar's consent.
Edgar, ever ready to do anything to please his friend, freely gave it, and

only asked him to give an assurance that the secret object of his former
visit to Devon would remain inviolate. Accordingly Athelwold took a
solemn oath that it would never be revealed, and Edgar then slapped
him on the back and wished him Godspeed in his wooing.
Very soon after thus smoothing the way, Athelwold returned to Devon,
and was once more in the presence of the woman who had so enchanted
him, with that same meaning smile on her lips and light in her eyes
which had been her good-bye and her greeting, only now it said to him:
You have returned as I knew you would, and I am ready to give myself
to you.
From every point of view it was a suitable union, seeing that Athelwold
would inherit power and great possessions from his father, Earldoman
of East Anglia, and before long the marriage took place, and by and by
Athelwold took his wife to Wessex, to the castle he had built for
himself on his estate of Wherwell, on the Test. There they lived
together, and as they had married for love they were happy.
But as the king's intimate friend and the companion of many of his
frequent journeys he could not always bide with her nor be with her for
any great length of time. For Edgar had a restless spirit and was
exceedingly vigilant, and liked to keep a watchful eye on the different
lately hostile nations of Mercia, East Anglia, and Northumbria, so that
his journeys were frequent and long to these distant parts of his
kingdom. And he also had his naval forces to inspect at frequent
intervals. Thus it came about that he was often absent from her for
weeks and months at a stretch. And so the time went on, and during
these long absences a change would come over Elfrida; the lovely
colour, the enchanting smile, the light of her eyes--the outward sign of
an intense brilliant life--would fade, and with eyes cast down she would
pace the floors or the paths or sit brooding in silence by the hour.
Of all this Athelwold knew nothing, since she made no complaint, and
when he returned to her the light and life and brilliance would be hers
again, and there was no cloud or shadow on his delight. But the cloud