At first, Elfrida possessed great influence over the young King, but,
as he grew older and came of age, her influence declined. The infamous
woman, not having it in her power to do any more evil, then retired
from court, and, according, to the fashion of the time, built churches
and monasteries, to expiate her guilt. As if a church, with a steeple
reaching to the very stars, would have been any sign of true repentance
for the blood of the poor boy, whose murdered form was trailed at his
horse’s heels! As if she could have buried her wickedness beneath the
senseless stones of the whole world, piled up one upon another, for the
monks to live in!
About the ninth or tenth year of this reign, Dunstan died. He was
growing old then, but was as stern and artful as ever. Two
circumstances that happened in connexion with him, in this reign of
Ethelred, made a great noise. Once, he was present at a meeting of the
Church, when the question was discussed whether priests should have
permission to marry; and, as he sat with his head hung down, apparently
thinking about it, a voice seemed to come out of a crucifix in the
room, and warn the meeting to be of his opinion. This was some juggling
of Dunstan’s, and was probably his own voice disguised. But he played
off a worse juggle than that, soon afterwards; for, another meeting
being held on the same subject, and he and his supporters being seated
on one side of a great room, and their opponents on the other, he rose
and said, ‘To Christ himself, as judge, do I commit this cause!’
Immediately on these words being spoken, the floor where the opposite
party sat gave way, and some were killed and many wounded. You may be
pretty sure that it had been weakened under Dunstan’s direction, and
that it fell at Dunstan’s signal. _His_ part of the floor did not go
down. No, no. He was too good a workman for that.
When he died, the monks settled that he was a Saint, and called him
Saint Dunstan ever afterwards. They might just as well have settled
that he was a coach-horse, and could just as easily have called him
one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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