the breast of Alred the meek
accuser,--God's firm but gentle priest.

CHAPTER IV.

This memorable trial ended, as the reader will have forseen, in the
formal renewal of Sweyn's outlawry, and the formal restitution of the
Earl Godwin and his other sons to their lands and honours, with
declarations imputing all the blame of the late dissensions to the
foreign favourites, and sentences of banishment against them, except
only, by way of a bitter mockery, some varlets of low degree, such as
Humphrey Cock's-foot, and Richard son of Scrob. [92]

The return to power of this able and vigorous family was attended with an
instantaneous effect upon the long-relaxed strings of the imperial
government. Macbeth heard, and trembled in his moors; Gryffyth of Wales
lit the fire-beacon on moel and craig. Earl Rolf was banished, but
merely as a nominal concession to public opinion; his kinship to Edward
sufficed to restore him soon, not only to England, but to the lordship of
the Marches, and thither was he sent, with adequate force, against the
Welch, who had half-repossessed themselves of the borders they harried.
Saxon prelates and abbots replaced the Norman fugitives; and all were
contented with the revolution, save the King, for the King lost his
Norman friends, and regained his English wife.

In conformity with the usages of the times, hostages of the loyalty and
faith of Godwin were required and conceded. They were selected from his
own family; and the choice fell on Wolnoth, his son, and Haco, the son of
Sweyn. As, when nearly all England may be said to have repassed to the
hands of Godwin, it would have been an idle precaution to consign these
hostages to the keeping of Edward, it was settled, after some discussion,
that they should be placed in the Court of the Norman Duke until such
time as the King, satisfied with the good faith of the family, should
authorise their recall:--Fatal hostage, fatal ward and host!

It was some days after this national crisis, and order and peace were
again established in city and land, forest and shire, when, at the
setting of the sun, Hilda stood alone by the altar-stone of Thor.

The orb was sinking red and lurid, amidst long cloud-wracks of vermeil
and purple, and not one human form was seen in the landscape, save that
tall and majestic figure by the Runic shrine and the Druid crommell. She
was leaning both hands on her wand, or seid-staff, as it was called in
the language of S