portions, while another church, scarcely
smaller in its dimensions, rose from the banks lower down the stream,
below the bridge, and the wooden steeple of a third was visible above
the roofs of the houses in the western part of the city.

But, as in every other city which had once been Roman, the relics of
departed greatness contrasted painfully (at least we should think so)
with the humbler architecture around. The majesty of the churches was
indeed (as a contemporary wrote) great, but thatched roofs consorted
ill with the remains of shattered column and pedestal, and with the
fragmentary ruins of the grand amphitheatre, which were yet partly
visible, although the stones which had been brought from Bath to build
it had been employed largely in church architecture.

The light of day was rapidly fading; a light breeze brought down the
remaining leaves from the trees, or whirled them about in all
directions; winter was plainly about to assume the mastery of the
scene, as was evident from the clothing the people wore, the thick fur
and warm woollen cloaks which covered their light tunics.

At length the sound of approaching cavalry was heard, and the cry "The
King! the King!" was raised, and cheers were given by the multitude.
It was observable, almost at a glance, that they proceeded from the
young and giddy, and that their elders refrained from joining in the
cry.

About a hundred horsemen, gaily caparisoned, appeared, and in the
midst, with equal numbers of his guard preceding and following, rode
Ethelred the king. He was of middle stature and not uncomely, but
there was a look of vacillation about his face, which would have
struck even an indifferent physiognomist, while his thin lips, which
he was constantly biting (when he was not biting his nails), seemed to
indicate a tendency towards cruelty.

But by his side rode one, whose restless eyes seemed to wander to each
individual of the crowd in turn, while power and malice seemed equally
conspicuous in his glance. Little changed since we last beheld him
rode the traitor, for so all but the king accounted him, Edric
Streorn.

Amidst the shouts of the populace, who loved to look on the display,
the Bishop Ednoth {xi} and the chief magistrates of the city
received the monarch and his councillor in front of the church of Sts.
Peter and Paul, and escorted him through the streets to the palace,
which stood in what was then a central position, on the spot now
called B