"
But there was one gay young noble present, who knew better than Cynewulf
the key to Edwy's heart. He was one of the boon companions we have been
before introduced to; but he had fought, poor young fellow, gallantly
all that day, and now he could fight no longer: Edwy saw him reel and
fall from his horse.
"Elfgar!" he said; as he strove to raise his friend and subject from the
ground--"not seriously wounded I hope!"
"Dying, and for my king, as is my duty let a dying voice reach you, my
dear lord. Save yourself if you would save Elgiva, if you--if you--"
the words came broken and faint "--are slain, she will be at the mercy
of her deadly foes."
His head fell helplessly down upon his shoulder, and ere the king could
make any reply, he saw that he was indeed past hope.
But his dying words had sunk deeply into the heart of Edwy.
"Poor Elfgar! he was right. O Elgiva! Elgiva! this is a sad day for thee."
"Return then to her, my lord," said Cynewulf. "See, they are preparing
now to assault the camp; I can hold it for hours, and if you are not
here, I can make good terms with our foes; but, if you stay, you but
embarrass us: ride out, my liege."
"And desert my subjects?"
"They will all acquit you: haste, my lord, haste, before they surround
the camp, for your fair queen's sake, or you are lost."
"Come, my men, we must fly," said Edwy, sullenly; and he led the way
reluctantly to the back of the camp.
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