“Brother,” said the seated priest, “did you see?”

“I saw, and I think it is but the first of many wonders which we may see here.”

Now we stayed there still and hardly daring to move, looking yet for the king to be yonder again, but we saw no more.  Then at last the priest begged me to go to the archbishop and bring him, telling him what had happened.  I went, and when Ealdwulf came there was no more delay, but where the form of Ethelbert had stood there stood Erling, and was baptized by the archbishop, I and the old priest standing for him.  And thereafter he knelt at the steps of the sanctuary, and on him the hands of the archbishop were laid in his confirmation.

That was the most wonderful baptism I have ever seen, and it bides in my mind ever as I see another, even if it be but of a little babe of thrall or forester, so that for a time I seem to stand in the church at Fernlea once more, and hear the voice of Erling as he made his answers firmly and truly.  Betimes it seems to me that it was but longing and the work of minds in many ways overwrought which showed us the form of the dead king there by the font—­and I cannot tell.  Yet the watching priest saw, besides us three who had searched for him.

Presently, on the morrow, and again in days later, when the body of the king lay for the people to pass and see, and when it was taken with all pomp to its resting in the great new cathedral which men call that of Hereford, there were many healings and the like, as they tell me.  And at Marden, where Offa built at once the little church which should mark where Ethelbert was hidden, that water which welled from the place whence we took him healed many.

Now we went forth from the church for a little while, and presently I went back alone and placed the little gift which Etheldrida had given me on the breast of the king, hiding it next his heart in his robes.  I had learned that they would not be moved again.  Ealdwulf knew that I had done it, and when I came back to him, where he talked yet with Erling in the reeve’s chamber, he asked me if I knew what the little case held.  I did not, and that is known to none save to her who gave it me.

“I think that you two will value this more than other men,” he said then.

And with that he gave us each a little silken bag, square, with a cross and a letter E worked thereon.  He had cut for us each a lock from the head of Ethelbert, and had it set hastily thus for us.  And he was right as to the way in which we held it of more worth than aught else.  Hilda wrought the little cases as she sat waiting in the house.  It is my word that mine shall go to my last resting with me.