erseding the ferocious expression his face had so
lately worn. Meanwhile a hand was laid upon Alfgar's shoulder, and a
keen bright eye met his own, as if to read his inmost thoughts.

"Come with me, or my father will disgrace himself."

It was Canute.

He led Alfgar forth into the courtyard.

"Thou dost not seem to fear death," said the boy prince.

"It would be welcome now."

"So some of our people sometimes say, but the motive is different;
tell me what is the secret of this Christianity?"

Just then Sidroc and Anlaf came out from the hall and saw the two
together. Sidroc seemed annoyed, and led the young prince away, while
Anlaf seized the opportunity to whisper to his son:

"My son, I can do no more for thee; I see thou wilt persist in thine
obstinacy. I release thee from thy promise given to me; escape if thou
canst, or die in the attempt; but bring not my grey hairs to contempt
on the morrow."

At this moment, Sidroc having seen Canute to the royal quarters,
returned.

"Sidroc," said Anlaf, "I cannot any longer be the jailor of my unhappy
and rebellious son. Let him be confined till the morrow. I shall ask
leave of absence from Sweyn, and now I deliver Alfgar to your care."

"I accept the charge," said Sidroc; "follow me, Alfgar, son of Anlaf."

Alfgar followed passively. He could not help looking as if to take
leave of his father; but Anlaf stood as mute and passionless as a
statue. Sidroc reached a party of the guard, and bade them confine the
prisoner in the dungeon beneath the ruined eastern tower.

"Listen to my last words, thou recreant boy; Sweyn will send for thee
early in the morning before the assembled host; it will be the day of
St. Brice; and even were he not now mad with rage, there would be no
mercy for a Christian on that day. Thou must yield, or die by the
severest torture, compared with which the death of thy late companion
under the archers' shafts was merciful. Be warned!"

CHAPTER XI. THE GLEEMAN.

It was a low dungeon, built of that brick which we still recognise as
of Roman manufacture, in the foundations of what had been the eastern
tower of the ancient fortification. The old pile had been badly
preserved by the Saxon conquerors, but it had been built of that solid
architecture which seems almost to defy the assaults of time, and
which in some cases, after fifteen centuries, preserves all its
characteristics, and promises yet to preserve them, when our frailer
erect