Not without fierce strife has this kingdom of England come to him. He has met his match in Edmund Ironside, true hero and true Englishman. But Edmund is dead, and the young Dane is unchallenged master of the land. And now, secure in the possession of three kingdoms, he sets himself to win the confidence of his new subjects. The armed bands with which he has conquered his new realm are sent home, save for a stalwart bodyguard. He will trust his Englishmen, and will link his fortunes with theirs. He marries the beautiful widow of the late king, and labours to hold the balance even between Dane and native. As the years go by his new subjects come to be his best supporters, and England is England still, though a Dane sits on the throne. A pagan born, he nevertheless becomes a zealous Christian, and many a fair monastery is reared and endowed by him. He strives to do justice to all men, and he pledges himself to rule according to the old and cherished law of the realm. One day, however, the fierce spirit within him suddenly flames up, and he slays with his own hand a soldier of his guard. When his wrath has died down he bitterly repents of the deed, and deplores the evil example which he has set to others. Then he descends from his throne and bids the Witan judge him and punish him, regardless of his rank and power. Flinging himself prostrate on the ground, he awaits the verdict which his judges dare not give, despite his promise of free pardon. They bid him appoint his own judgment. The fine for slaying a man is forty talents of silver. Canute sentences himself to pay nine times the sum, and nine talents of gold in addition. Some see in this act a mere theatrical display, a crafty method of re-enforcing the law which he, the lawgiver, had violated. Let us be charitable, and believe that he was sincere and honest in desiring to atone for his crime. Better known is the story of the rebuke which he administered to the flattering courtiers who crowded round his throne. They, recounting his mighty deeds of valour, his conquests, his glories, were not ashamed to say, “Great lord, even the sea obeys you. The rising tide dare not wet the hem of your garment.” On the seashore Canute set up his throne, and as the waters rolled in and splashed about his feet he cried, “Confess ye now how frivolous and vain is the might of an earthly king compared with the Great Power who rules the elements, and can say unto the ocean, ‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.’” “And he strongly bade them never more to kneel to human clay, But alone to praise and worship that which earth and seas obey; And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day. King Canute is dead and gone; parasites exist alway.”