Upon the morning after the arrival of Elfric in London, Edwy, the young prince, and his new companion, sat in a room on the upper floor of the palace, which had but two floors, and would have been considered in these days very deficient in architectural beauty.
The window of the room opened upon the river, and commanded a pleasant view of the woods and meadows on the Surrey side, then almost uninhabited, being completely unprotected in case of invasion, a contingency never long absent from the mind in the days of the sea kings.
A table covered with manuscripts, both in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, occupied the centre of the room, and there Elfric was seated, looking somewhat aimlessly at a Latin vocabulary, while Edwy was standing listlessly at the window. The “library,” if it deserved the name, was very unlike a modern library; books were few, and yet very expensive, so that perhaps there was no fuller collection in any layman’s house in the kingdom. There were Alfred’s translations into Anglo-Saxon, the “_Chronicle of Orosius_,” or the history of the World; the “_History of the Venerable Bede_,” both in his original Latin and in English; Boethius on the “_Consolations of Philosophy_;” narratives from ancient mythology; extracts from the works of St. Augustine and St. Gregory; and the Apologues or Fables from Æsop.viii
“Oh, put those stupid books aside,” exclaimed the prince; “this is your first day in town, and I mean to take a holiday; that surly old Dunstan should have left word to that effect last night.”
“Yes, he is coming this morning, the old bear, to superintend my progress, and I wish him joy thereof.”
“What has he given you to do?” inquired Elfric.
“Why, a wretched exercise to write out. There, you see it before you; isn’t it a nuisance?”
“Don’t you think it hard? See whether you can do it!”
Elfric smiled, and wrote out the simple Latin with ease, for he had been well instructed by Father Cuthbert at Æscendune.
He had scarcely finished when a firm step was heard upon the stairs.
“Hush,” said Edwy; “here comes Dunstan. Be sure you look solemn enough,” and he composed his own countenance into an expression of preternatural gravity.
The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the room, one whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe.