We cannot enter more closely into the secret which gave the martyr his strength; we know not the visions of heavenly joy which may have overpowered the present pain, we know not whether He who gave this elaborate framework of flesh and blood, nerve and sinew, miraculously suspended the full operation of His laws, as is elsewhere recorded of other martyrs. Certain it is, that sooner than relinquish Him, Bertric, like Saint Edmund nearly two centuries earlier, yielded his life to the rage of the enemies of His Lord {vi}. The struggle was sharp but short, for Sidroc, to the surprise, and we must add the disgust, of his compatriots, seized a bow and sent an arrow straight to the heart. One nervous shudder passed through the limbs, and all was still; they had killed the body, and had no more that they could do. Alfgar gazed with reverence, as well as love, upon the calm features from which the expression of pain had wholly passed; the light of the fire, mingling strangely with that of the rising full moon, illumined them in this their first day of nothingness, for the spirit which had lived and dwelt in the tabernacle of clay had fled. Yet there was a wondrous beauty still lingering over them; they seemed etherialised--as if an angel's smile had last stirred their lines, when the spirit went forth, and left its imprint of wonder, joy, and awe thereon; and Alfgar instinctively turned from them to the blue depths of heaven above, where a few stars were visible, although dimmed by the moonlight; and he seemed to trace his beloved Bertric's passage to the realms of bliss. A light wind made music in the upper branches of the oaks, and it seemed to him like the rush of angels' wings. It had often been a sharp struggle to him, nursed in heroic times, learned in battle songs, and of the very blood of the vikings, to avoid the feeling that Christianity was not the religion of the brave; now the difficulty was over, and who shall say that the first joy of the martyr's soul was not the knowledge that his sufferings had already borne such fruit to God! And not only was Alfgar reconciled to the reproach of the Cross, he was also content to be an Englishman, if not in blood, at least in affection and sympathy as in action. An hour passed away; the body remained affixed to the tree; the night grew darker, and the hour approached when, under ordinary circumstances, people retired to rest, and the band commenced its preparations for carrying out the attack upon Aescendune. One hope Alfgar had, and that not a faint one: he knew that the two theows had escaped unnoticed, and that they would give warning in time for either defence or escape; their strength at Aescendune was but slight for the former, all the able-bodied men were absent at the seat of war.