It was midnight, and one of the company was favouring them with a song of questionable propriety, when a heavy knock was heard at the door. The servants went to answer it, and all the company awaited the issue in suspense.
One of the principal domestics returned with haste, and whispered some words into the ear of Ethelgiva—which seemed to discompose her.
“What can this mean?” she said. “A guard of soldiers demand admittance in the king’s name?”
“You must admit them, or they will batter the door down. Edwy, Elfric! here, hide yourselves behind that curtain, it veils a deep recess.”
They had scarcely concealed themselves when Dunstan entered, attended by a guard of the royal hus-carles.
“What means this insolence?” said Ethelgiva.
“No insolence is intended, royal lady, nor could be offered to the widow of the Etheling, by me,” replied Dunstan, “but I seek to discharge a sacred trust committed to me. Where are my pupils, the Prince Edwy and his companion?”
“In their beds, at the palace, I should suppose.”
“Nay, be not so perfidious; they are here, lady, and probably within hearing; they must come forth, or I must order the guard to search the house, which I should regret.”
“By that of the king, whose signet is on my hand.”
“They are not here; they left half-an-hour ago.”
“Pardon me, madam, if I observe that we have watched the house for an hour.
“Had not this scene better terminate?” he added, with icy coldness.
At this moment a favourite dog, which Edwy had often petted, and which had entered with the guard, found him out behind the curtain, and in its vociferous joy betrayed the whole secret.
Confusion or smiles sat on every face save that of the imperturbable Dunstan.
“Your dog, madam, is more truthful than its mistress,” he said, bluntly yet quietly; and then, advancing to the recess, he drew aside the curtain and gazed upon the discovered couple.
“Will you kindly return to the palace with me?”
“How dare you, insolent monk, intrude upon the pleasures of your future king?”
“I dare by the orders of the present king, your royal uncle, who has committed the whole matter into my hands; and, Prince Edwy, in the discharge of my duty ‘dare’ is a superfluous word. Will you, as I said before, both follow me, if you are sufficiently masters of yourselves to do so?”