University of Virginia Library

SCENE I

[The Fens north-east of Athelney. The Atheling and Edgiva on the water; Edward rowing, Edgiva steering.]
EDGIVA.
It might be March, not May, so crisp the wind
Curls the sleek water, and besets the keel,
Driving it slantwise.

EDWARD.
Then, sweet, keep her straight.
For, says the King, pondering on mightier things,
Face a head gust and it will steady you.
See! 'tis nor May nor March, but April's self,
That runs along the ripples of the mere,
Sunning gray wrinkles into golden smiles. . . .
Look! look!

EDGIVA.
What was't?

EDWARD.
A feeding kingfisher
Jewelled the air a moment, and is gone.

EDGIVA.
As you are going!

EDWARD.
Nay, sweet, not for long.
Let us but root the heathen from the isle,
And then once more we many a time and oft
Will in the dark-green gloamings of moist May
Link hands in silence.

EDGIVA.
Can you hit the spot
Where we must meet the King?

EDWARD.
Aye, to a rood.
'Tis hard beyond where now the wild swans breed:
She with husht pinions furled upon the nest,
He tacking fierce, and shrilling through his sails
Against intruding footstep.

EDGIVA.
Have a care!
The water waxeth shallower, and ahead
The reedmace stouter grows.

EDWARD.
I mind them well.
How often have I crushed their crackling stems,
Sered by the wind and manacled in ice,
When first we came to crouch in Athelney!
There's not a tangle in this stubborn world
I had not pushed through then, for straight my will
Was straining to your threshold! O, how long
Remorseful Winter, wishing to be Spring,
Kept feebly slipping back from sun to cloud,
From bud to snowflake! Now 'tis May! 'tis May!
The Mother-month that fosters all things good,
And, with the white renewal of the thorn,
Arrays our hearts for battle!

EDGIVA.
Not for me!
Nay, but I would not have it otherwise.
Love England first, Edgiva afterward,
Till Peace shall make them twin. Why hath the King
Laid this great meed on my unworth, that now
We wend together unto Guthrum's camp,
Minstrel and daughter? I am sore afeard,
Not of the danger,—danger there is none
With him to lead,—no, but of his high thoughts
And my mean mind to mate them.

EDWARD.
Have no fear.
Though low unto the lofty may not reach,
The lofty to the low doth easy stoop:
Beside, my father loves you.

EDGIVA.
For your sake.

EDWARD.
Nay, but I know he loves you for your own;
And sure in love is neither high nor low,
But even only. More: he needs your help,
In that vexed country that you roamed a child
Ere Danewulf changed his lord, and came to dwell
Nigher to Athelney; where Deverel dips
Dark underground to suckle Wiley's stream,
And Egbert's Stone remains a mark unmoved
By war or time.

EDGIVA.
How well I can recall
Each runnel, thicket, clearing, garth, and stead,
Lowland and upland, dimple in the hills,
As free from fear as I who gazed at them.
To think that I should live to help the King!
There is a lofty sorrow in his gaze,
Like to the moon, high up in Heaven alone.

EDWARD.
Be you the star tending his loneliness.

EDGIVA.
I never could be that, but sometimes hope
He may deign weep, that I may stay his tears.

EDWARD.
Nay, never think to see him weep or wail!
Like clouds that are not low enough for rain,
His grief is far too high to fall in tears.
But now, please Heaven, his woe shall roll away,
And only sunshine sit on Alfred's brow.
But hush! we near the place. By Nicor's Thorn
The King awaits me. Bide you by the bank
Till I wend back to you.

[He leaps from the boat, fastens it to the shore, helps Edgiva to land, then leaves her.]