The Kings Sons | Page 8

after
the lordly stag or the big-eyed, prong-horned, graceful roes of which
there were many about the forest lands which surrounded the King's
home.
Alfred, from one of the upper windows, saw them go away in triumph
and longed to join them; but he did not do so, for there was sorrow in
his heart, and for the first time in his young life he had begun to think
deeply about the words spoken by his brother and those uttered so sadly
and reproachfully by the simple-hearted, gentle monk.
CHAPTER FOUR.
A BEE IN HIS CELL.
It was in the afternoon of that same day that young Alfred loitered
about the place feeling very lonely and miserable and, truth to tell,
repentant because he had not joined his brothers in the glorious chase
they must be having. Taken altogether, he felt very miserable.
But he was not alone in that, for, going to the window, he saw Father
Swythe walking slowly down the garden amongst the Queen's flower
and herb beds, with his head bowed down and his hands behind him,
looking unhappy in the extreme.
Alfred turned away, feeling guilty, and went into another room, when,
to his surprise, he came suddenly upon Osburga, his mother, seated
alone by her embroidery-frame, her needle and silk in her hands, but
not at work.
She was sitting back thinking, with the tears slowly trickling down her
cheeks.

Alfred felt that this was a most miserable day, and, with his heart
feeling more sore than ever, he crept softly behind his mother's chair
and, quite unobserved, sank down upon his knees to lay his brown and
ruddy cheek against her hand.
The Queen started slightly, and then, raising her hand, she laid it upon
Alfred's fair, curly locks and began to smoothe them.
"Why are you crying, mother?" whispered the boy at last, as he felt that
he must say something, although he knew perfectly well the reason of
his mother's sorrow.
"I am crying, Fred," she said, in a deep sad voice, "because the days go
by and no messenger comes to tell me how the King your father fares;
and more tears came, my boy, because now that I am in such pain and
sorrow I find that my sons, instead of trying to be wise and thoughtful
of their duties, grow more wild and wilful every day."
Alfred drew a deep catching breath which was first cousin to a sob, and
the Queen went on:
"I want them to grow up wise and good, and I find that not only do they
think of nothing except their own selfish ends, but they behave ill to
one of the gentlest, kindest, and best of men--one who is as wise and
learned as he is modest and womanly at heart. It makes mine sore, my
son, at such a time as this, for there is nothing better nor greater than
wisdom, my boy, and he who possesses it leads a double life whose
pleasures are without end. But I am in no mood to scold and reproach
you, Fred. You are the youngest and least to blame. Still, I had looked
for better things of you all than that I should hear that you openly defy
Father Swythe, and have made him come to me to say that he can do no
more, and to ask to be dismissed. There, Fred, leave me now. I will talk
to your brothers when they return from the chase."
Alfred's lips were apart, ready to utter words of repentance; but they
seemed to stick on the way, leaving him dumb.
Feeling more miserable than ever, he stole out, looking guilty and

wretched, and went straight into the garden for a reason of his own.
But it was not to pick flowers or to gather fruit. He wanted to see the
gentle old monk; for he felt as if he could say to him what he could not
utter to the Queen. But there was another disappointment awaiting him.
Swythe was not there, and the boy stamped his foot angrily.
"Oh," he said, half aloud and angrily, "how unlucky I am!"
Just then there came as if out of one of the low windows looking upon
the garden a deep-toned sound such as might have been made by a very
big and musical bee, and the boy's face brightened as he turned and
made for the door, crossed the hall, and then went down a stone
passage, to stop at a door, whose latch he lifted gently, and looked in,
letting out at once the full deep tones he had heard in the garden
floating out of the open window.
There was Swythe sitting at a low table beneath the window with his
back to him, singing