d country. There were
Englishmen who fought for Cnut thinking that thus they wrought best
for England and her peace--as Wulfnoth chose for Godwine--and I had
no hatred for them. They were honest if they were wrong; but they
were no traitors. But Edric Streone was as Judas to me.

So Thrand and Guthorm grumbled, and forbore, though they would have
spent their own lives willingly in this way had I lifted a finger.
It was, however, in revenge for the Stamford business that they
would slay the earl, and that was only my quarrel, nothing higher.
Nevertheless I owed them thanks for their love thus shown to me,
and so I told them. Little had I done to deserve it; but who shall
know what wins the love of rough souls like these?

Strange news came with Streone, though I had heard rumours thereof
before, as I have said. It was true that Cnut was to wed Emma the
queen; and they had, as it seemed, already been betrothed, at the
advice of the three great jarls. Now she and the athelings her sons
were back in Normandy, and one might see what the reason of this
policy was, Not only was Duke Richard kept quiet, but also Cnut was
stepfather to Eadward Atheling and his brothers. That meant that if
Cnut won, they must needs suffer him to take the crown unopposed.
And more than this, if Cnut must leave England alone presently,
when Eadmund died he would claim the throne at once, either for
himself or for one of these athelings as his under-king. For no man
ever thought twice of Eadmund's brother Edwy, who was weak bodily,
nor of his half brother, the other Edwy, whom we called "king of
the churls," by reason of the low birth of his mother, for no
thanes would follow him had he had the gift of leading.

Cnut's fleet went from the Medway northward, and it was in the
thoughts of all men that the end had come, and that he sought his
own land at last. And that seemed the more certain to most because
Streone had submitted, as if he knew that he had no further hope of
honour from the Danish king. Presently, however, it was plain that
his coming over was but part of the deepest plot that he had yet
made.

Suddenly, even as our levies dispersed in spite of all the king's
entreaties, came the news that the Danish fleet had turned and was
in the Crouch river in Essex, whence already the host had begun
their march inland across Mercia in the old way. And so for the
fifth time Eadmund strove to gather all England to him, and his
summons was well