re--the King knew it, and his
people knew it, and they shuddered to think of their fate. Then a great
idea came to the King.

It was he himself the Danes hated so. If only they had him in their
power, perhaps they would leave his beloved country in peace! The more
he thought of this, the more certain he felt that, by giving himself up,
he could buy the peace and happiness and safety of his people. Christ,
his Captain, had done this--He had not feared to face the most cruel
death to save mankind, and St. Edmund's heart suddenly leapt with the
thought that he would follow Christ and do the same!

At first his old friend the Bishop, St. Humbert, tried to hold him back.
But after a while he saw that St. Edmund was quite resolved. He spoke of
it with such courage and joy that the aged Bishop knew the Holy Spirit
must be in his heart leading him to this glorious sacrifice of himself,
this giving of his very life for his God and his friends, this quest for
the martyr's crown. And so he gave him his blessing and bade him do as
his brave heart prompted him. So, calling together his people, St.
Edmund told them what he was going to do. You can imagine what they
felt--how they begged him with tears not to do it. But nothing would
make him change his mind--he knew it was God's Will.

Bravely he gave his last order to his men. It was that all the gates of
the fortress should be thrown open, all the defences left unguarded,
nothing done to stop the Danes entering it. Then he made his way to the
chapel. Unbuckling his faithful sword, he laid it on the steps of the
altar, and knelt down, with no protection save God's mercy.

The little chapel was very dim, and full of a holy feeling. All was
still. It seemed to the young King as if he were far, far away from the
rest of the world, from all the horror of bloodshed and crashing
battle-axes that had filled the last few weeks like some horrible dream.
He let his mind just rest on the thought of God and His love, and a
wonderful peace came over him.

Near him knelt the old Bishop, and his heart was near to breaking, for
he loved St. Edmund very much. The tears ran down his furrowed cheeks,
and fell silently on the steps of the altar, but he spoke no word.
Silently the moments passed, and then, suddenly, a sound broke the
stillness that sent a cold shiver through St. Humbert. Wild shouts,
coarse laughter, the clash and clatter of armed men rushing in wild
triumph through the fortress. I