Marjorie Bowen

“ Valerian, the Byzantine knight, laughed, and drew her to the well, and made her sit beside him there, with the waving shadows of the ferns over her dress.
She came without resistance, gazing ait him the while with wide blue eyes.
"The old gods are dead," he said, holding her slackly by the arm. "The saints rule in heaven now. Listen. I come from Ravenna, which is a Christian town. Canterbury will be a Christian town." ”

“ Blue eyes gazed into black eyes across the moonlight and the shadows of the fern; hers were troubled. She put out her hand and touched his where it lay on his breast.
"Am cold—cold," she said, sadly. "Feel my fingers."
Valerian frowned.
"Thou art a witch," he said. "and thy power lieth in thy garments certainly, Lo! I come to do war on such as thee—even I."
"Am no witch." She drew back against the beech trunk. "Art cruel." She eyed him in a troubled manner as he leant forward with a clink of armor from his seat on the well. ”

“ He made no answer; the moonlight striking through the trees showed his Byzantine beauty and cast his shadow dark behind him.
The woman came a little nearer.
"Am afraid," she said. "Give me my garments."
She shuddered under the thin linen of her shift, and looked around timidly for her attire.
"Thou art human, certainly," answered Valerian, marking her shivering. "St, Honor! but I thought ye one of the gods of Britain, verily. Lo! I am a Christian knight, and bear unto pagans a dislike, mightily."
"Am cold," she repeated; she came still closer. "Art terrible to look upon." ”

“ The knight Valerian, brother of Augustine the prior, began singing the louder:
"What hope have I of gaining heaven,
Myrra—when the virtues are few,
Myrra—when the sins are seven,
And the sweetest sin is you—is you!
"Surely I have no need of heaven
(Sins that are seven) .
When the sun shines gold through the shade of the vine. ”

“ The autumn foliage, faded to hues of gold and brown, rustled in a bright sunshine; dead leaves strewed the ground, but grass of a clear green grew in patches beneath the trees.
In this little clearing in the forest, stood a wattled hut. The thin smoke curled slowly from it in delicate spirals against, the cloudless sky; at the doorway stood a yellow-haired child, clasping a rough red pitcher to the bosom of her striped frock. ”

“ As he leant from the saddle he saw embroideries gleam duskily.
Swiftly he dismounted; a woman's clothes lay at his feet—a rich robe, a red mantle, and leather sandals among the fallen beechnuts.
Freda's garb! He lifted them from the dead leaves and put them over his saddle. They were heavy with gold fringes and beads; he handled them curiously; then knotted the rein to a beech bough, and waited for her to come for her garments. The moon rose, turning the grayness into silver. Valerian seated himself by the edge of the well, crushing the soft damp ferns ”

“ The child, idly holding her pitcher, stood by his side, with fearless blue eyes considering the strangers.
"Beware of the wood," said Cedric, "if ye bring new gods."
A priest with his fingers in the reins turned and asked sharply. "Wherefore?"
"It belongeth," said the churl, putting hack his yellow hair, "to the old gods, and they are jealous,"
He fixed the osier bands between his knees and began skilfully plaiting them.
"Mostly," he continued, "it belongeth to Freda—she hath a well there."
"She is a false god," returned the priest; "an idol—an image, such as we have come to destroy utterly." ”

“ Verily the Queen Bertha of Kent hath such a chapel, and a holy man who daily holdeth service; truly, through this righteous woman's workings upon her husband, hath he written to Home for servants of God to come and preach the true faith in the land. ”

“ She smiled sweetly on him.
"Art kind," she said. "Ethelfrid will thank thee."
"Need I no pagan's gratitude, certainly," he answered.
There wag silence as they sat opposite each other with the trees and the silence about them: then Osberga spoke, yawning.
"Am sleepy," she said. "Am tired." ”

“ She sits in the well—something she sings, and leaneth sideways to gaze into the water."
The priest frowned.
"They even wallow in their error! When the King is converted, Kent will be also converted, and ye will see the folly, child, of falsehoods, verily."
But she only smiled and turned away with her pitcher. There was a pause. Augustine gazed after her; then he spoke to the Frank, and his voice was cold.
"What doth the pagan say?" he asked. "I must learn the Saxon, certainly!"
"She speaketh of her false gods," was the answer. "Lo! they are deep in error." ”