Dubric, who crowned the King at Cirencester, and married him to Guinevere his wife.

Part of those wonderful stories is purely legendary, but part is true, for it is believed that King Arthur was a real person, and so were many of his Knights.

Bishop Dubric, or Dubricus, certainly was a real person, for we know that he was Bishop of Cærffawydd, and it is said that it was Sir Geraint, the Knight who married Enid, and rode with her, in her old faded dress, to Court, who built the first little church here, where the Bishop had his chair or ‘stool.’

Be this as it may, it is certain that there was a tiny little Cathedral here, long before the other English Cathedrals were thought of, for you know that a church is a Cathedral, no matter how small it is, if it has a Bishop’s official chair inside it. And it is probable that this little Cathedral was built of wood, and roofed with reeds or wattles.

THE QUEEN HANDS THE DRUGGED CUP TO ETHELBERT. Page 20.

It must have been rebuilt, or at least repaired, once or twice during the centuries that followed, but we know very little about its history until we come to the year A.D. 794, when a terrible event happened which led to a larger and more stately church being erected, this time of stone.

If you have read the story of St. Albans Cathedral,1 you will know what this event was; but I will try to tell you more fully about it here, for although it is very sad, it gives us a true picture of what even the life of Kings was, in these dark and troublous ages.

The name of the King who reigned over East Anglia—that is, the land of the ‘North folk’ and the ‘South folk,’ or, as we call it, Norfolk and Suffolk—in these days was Ethelbert, and he had an only son, Ethelbert the Ætheling.

This Ethelbert was such a goodly youth, so tall and straight and handsome, so skilled in all manner of knightly exercises, and so kind to the poor and needy, that all his father’s subjects adored him.

He loved God with all his heart, and would fain have given up his princely state and retired into some religious house, so that he might have more time to study His Word, and to learn about Him.

But he had plenty of what we call ‘common sense,’ so when his father died, and he was left King in his stead, he said to himself, ‘Now must I bestir myself and put away the dreams of my youth. I had visions of forsaking the world like Cuthbert or Bede, or the holy Paulinus, who won King Edwin to the Faith.2 But if it had been the will of God that I should serve Him in this manner, I would not have been born an Ætheling,3 and inheritor of the throne of East Anglia; and, seeing He hath thus dealt with me, I must serve Him according to His will, and not according to mine own. Therefore will I seek to be a just and true King.’

Then, knowing that a King has need of a wife, he sent for all the aldermen and wise men of his Kingdom, as soon as the days of mourning for his father were over, and told them that he wished to wed the Princess Elfreda, daughter of Offa, King of Mercia, and that he willed that a deputation should go from among them to the Court of that Monarch, to ask, in his name, for her hand.

Now, this Offa was a very great and mighty King, who cared for nothing so much as to extend the boundaries of his Kingdom, and he had succeeded in doing this in an extraordinary way. He had conquered the parts of the country which are now known as Kent, Sussex, Essex, and Surrey, and on the West he had driven back the Welsh beyond Shrewsbury, and had built a huge earthwork, which was known as ‘Offa’s Dyke,’ to mark the boundary of their domains. In this way it came about that in his days Cærffawydd, or ‘Fernlege,’ as it had come to be called, was in Mercia instead of Wales.

He had built for himself a great Castle at Sutton, near the banks of the Wye, and here he was holding his Court when King Ethelbert’s Ambassadors arrived, and laid their request before him.

He granted it at once, for he had but two daughters, the elder of whom, Eadburh, was married to Beorhtric, King of the West Saxons, who owed allegiance to him, and he thought that he would also have a certain power over the young Monarch of the East Angles if Elfreda became his wife.

So the grave bearded aldermen returned to their own land, and told their Royal Master how they had fared.

King Ethelbert was overjoyed at the success of his suit, and appointed a day on which he would set out, accompanied by all his retinue, to travel to the pleasant West Country in order to fetch home his bride.

Now, in those days people believed a great deal in dreams, and omens, and signs, and the old chroniclers tell us that, just before the young man set out, his mother, Queen Laonorine, came to him, and begged him not to go, because it was a very dark and cloudy morning, and she had had a bad dream the night before.

‘Look at the clouds,’ she said; ‘they be so black, methinks they portend evil.’

‘Nay, but clouds break,’ answered her son cheerily.

‘Yea! Verily! But ‘tis from clouds a thunderbolt may come,’ replied the anxious mother.

‘Let us not trust in omens, but in the living God, who “ordereth a good man’s goings,”’ replied the King, and, kissing her, he joined his nobles, who were already on horseback waiting for him outside, and rode gaily away.

It was the month of May, and for four days they rode through the fresh green lanes, till they drew near to where the powerful Monarch dwelt.

They crossed the Severn at Worcester, and rode over the great hill of Malvern, and when they were within a day’s journey of the Royal Palace of Sutton, they pitched their tents at Fernlege, on the banks of the Wye, and there Ethelbert and most of his nobles waited, while one or two knights rode forward to inform King Offa of his arrival.

In the evening, so the quaint old story goes, the young King left his tent, and, ascending a little hillock, from whence he could obtain a wide view of the surrounding country, sat down at the root of a giant oak-tree.

Everything was so fair and peaceful that he smiled as he remembered his mother’s fears, and he thought to himself how delighted she would be when he arrived at home once more, accompanied by his beautiful young bride. Musing thus he fell asleep, and dreamed a dream.

He dreamt that he was standing beside the little church which stood down by the riverside, which had been founded by Sir Geraint, and that all of a sudden an angel appeared, who carried a basin in his hand, and, to the King’s horror, the basin was full of blood.

But the angel’s calm face was quite untroubled as he picked a little bunch of herbs and dipped them in the blood, and began to sprinkle the rude little building with the scarlet drops.

And lo! to Ethelbert’s amazement, the building began slowly to change; it grew bigger and higher, and the reeds and wattles turned to blocks of stone, and presently a magnificent Minster stood in its place.

Apparently it was some great Festival, for a sweet-toned organ was pealing inside, while from all directions multitudes of people came thronging to the church, singing hymns of praise as they did so. And as they drew near the King, he heard that there was one name which mingled