few to understand." "But," persisted Porlor, "cannot they put on the alptahamir (swan shifts), and take the form of birds of augury? Our friend Oswith, the son of Guthlaf, told us that he saw three swans alight on Derwent bank, put their white swan shifts in the grass, and turn into beautiful maidens. They bathed in the river, resumed their shifts, and flew away again as swans; and Oswith never lies. Were they Valkyrie?" Alca answered that "it was given to some to behold these mysteries, and to understand the truth that lies concealed in them, but to others it was not given." They were now approaching the gate of Stillingfleet as the sun set, the faithful dog Shuprak bounded out to meet them, and the conversation turned to trivial subjects as they entered the court.

Some days afterwards the three boys, Hereric, Coelred, and Porlor, with their dog Shuprak, set out for the burg of the Hemingas, to join their friend Oswith, the son of Guthlaf, on a hunting expedition. They wore cross–gartered hose, and belts with metal buckles, from which long hunting–knives were suspended; bows and arrows were slung on their backs, and the little fellows also carried short iron–headed spears. For several miles they made their way through the dense forest, until they emerged on Skipwith Common, where the ruins of an abandoned town of the Parisi, consisting of circular huts, still showed many traces. It was a weird and desolate place even in bright sunshine, and Porlor whispered to his companions tales of grey old wood–folk clothed in moss, of dwarfs and giants, and of the lubber fiend, as they hurried across the moor, and again plunged into the forest. They went swiftly over the ground, and soon reached the clearings and the fortified burg of the Hemingas, at the junction of the rivers Ouse and Derwent. Here there was a ruined fort built by the Romans, which had been repaired with timber, and was the home of Guthlaf, the chief of the Hemingas. His son Oswith was the same age as Coelred, straight as a dart, broad–chested and lean–flanked—a splendid specimen of a young Englishman. He was a fast friend of the sons of Seomel, and, after warm words of welcome, their first act was to challenge each other to fight. A wrestling–match at once commenced on the green, and the lithe and sinewy figures of Coelred and Oswith were soon entwined, as they strove, with every muscle at extreme tension, to throw each other to the ground. Each boy won a bout, which made them quite happy, and the four lads, after a merry meal, set out on their search for forest game, working northwards again towards the home of Seomel.

"Nature was an open book to these lads of the far–distant past. They lived in nearer communion than we can do with the world around them. Their frames, not yet clogged and vitiated by the habits of an advanced civilisation, were more alive than ours to the external effects of natural causes. The birds spoke to them, the forest whispered to them, the wind wantoned with their curly locks, they stood before the great spirit of nature face to face, and knew him as he revealed himself in every one of his divine forms." Loaded with as much game as they could carry, after a very successful and very happy day, they were walking in single file through the tangled underwood, when Oswith, their leader, saw the eyes of a huge wild–cat glaring at him through the dense foliage. It sprang up a tree, and in an instant he had thrown down his burden and was after it, with his long knife in his mouth. When, at a considerable height, he was swinging himself forward to attack his antagonist, which was at bay, the bough broke and he fell heavily to the ground. His comrades found him suffering intense pain, unable to stand, and with a very badly sprained ankle. Abandoning the spoils of the chase, Coelred and Porlor began to carry him, but they were still several miles from Stillingfleet. Hereric ran forward for help, and when it came the sturdy little fellows had already carried their friend upwards of three miles. Oswith was soon lying on a heap of fresh straw in Seomel's hall. His hose and shoes were removed, and it was found that the ankle was much swollen, so that there was every prospect of days and even weeks elapsing before he would be able to walk.

As soon as Coelred had seen that everything that was possible had been done for his friend, he sought his mother's bower, and throwing himself at the feet of Alca, he besought her to show favour to the son of Guthlaf. "Indeed," replied the Princess, "I will do what I can for my young friend Oswith." She went into the hall, patted the boy's head, and spoke cheering words to him, with her eyes fixed on his until she thought her spell would work. Then she removed the bandage, placed her hand very gently on the swelling, and uttered it, as follows:—

Ben zi Bena,
Bluot zi Bluode,
Lid zi Geliden,
Sôse gelimida sin.
Thu biguolen Wodin,
So he wola coude,
Sôse ben–renki,
Sôse bluot–renki,
Sôse lidere–renki.

Volisia stood by her side, ready to administer a sleeping–draught, and next morning Oswith was quite healed, and able to walk and run as well as ever. As soon as she saw that the spell was working, Alca went out to the ash tree in the courtyard and prayed to the Æsir on her knees, several groups of people watching her with awe. When she rose and looked round, Coifi came forward with a low obeisance. The gleeman was an adept in the Teutonic religious beliefs, and was versed in all the tales and traditions of the mythology of his people. But he looked upon them solely from a practical point of view. He received every supernatural story literally. To him Woden and Thor were the wooden images preserved at Godmundham, and he sought for no further light. Alca, even in extreme youth, was visionary in her religious views. The All–father, as she understood him, was everywhere and pervaded everything. The gods and goddesses were his attributes, or represented his intentions and designs, as she had explained to the children on the day of the pilgrimage to Nehalennia's shrine.

"The spell will not work, I fear, O daughter of the King," said Coifi, who was then a man between thirty and forty, and known in every burg and hall as the best gleeman in Deira. "The spell will work, Coifi," replied Alca in a gentle voice. After a pause the gleeman said almost in a whisper, "I know the spell of Balder's horse that you used for young Oswith. I think I know every spell, but they will not work for me. I pray and sacrifice to the gods, but they help me not. Let them give me power and I can believe them. I believe when I see." Alca looked at him and said, "I am too young to teach so learned a man as Coifi. But I can say why the spell will work. The boy loved me and believed. I love the gods and have faith, so the spell will work." Coifi replied, "But I cannot believe until I see the spell work. If the spell works I believe." "That is the wrong way, Coifi," said the Princess. "Believe and the spell works; for it works by faith. Wait until the spell works before you can believe, and it will never work." Puzzled and angry, Coifi declared that he would serve the gods and pray to them for his lifetime, and they must answer him and give him power; but that to believe before they showed him their mighty works was impossible. Alca shook her head. She said no more, but she saw that insight was not given to Coifi.

As she stood by the side of the gleeman, with Coelred and Porlor watching her from the hall entrance, and with many people in the courtyard, her aspect suddenly changed. She assumed a