A speedy messenger was sent to inform Lady Gytha of what had befallen
her husband, and it was with anguished heart that she received the
mournful cavalcade which carried him, wounded and almost insensible,
to his home. He lived two or three days, but in the end, despite the
most skilful of leechery and the most assiduous nursing, he succumbed
to the loss of blood he had sustained during the night he lay on the
field. In his dying moments he again besought his wife to protect and
bring up in godly fashion his infant heir; and she, with heartbroken
sobbing, entreated him to have no apprehensions on that head, as now
she would have nothing to live for but that one sole purpose. And the
Earl closed his eyes in death, and was buried in the little wooden
church hard by, which had been built by his grandfather--buried with
all the pomp befitting his rank; and the Lady Gytha returned to her
mansion to grieve over her loss, devote herself to the instruction of
her beloved child, and look after the interests of his estates.
It chanced one day that the widowed lady and her orphan child were
disporting themselves on the grass-plot in front of the house, when a
withered old crone came up and implored charity. The Lady Gytha, who
was ever beneficent to the poor, sent into the house for some
victuals, which she gave to the old woman, bidding her sit under the
shade of a tree and eat thereof, condoled with her under her
infirmities, and supplemented her gift of food with a few coins.
Whilst she was conversing with the woman, the little Oswy was running
about after some ducks, and, chasing them to the edge of a pond, fell
in, but was immediately rescued. At the same moment a dog that was
chained up near by gave two prolonged howls, which attracted the
attention of the stranger, who, after musing awhile, said, "Lady! you
have been very kind in your largesses to me, whom you know not, and I
can only repay you by a warning, which I pray you to take heed of. I
am an old woman, and have lived long in this world, not without
learning somewhat that is hidden to others. I have studied omens and
forebodings, and have acquired the power of predicting the future from
signs of the present. Know then, lady, that I can foresee from the
mishap of your little son, and the language of the dog, that he will
undergo great peril from water, and that this will happen, unless
prevented by fit precaution, in his second year, as is indicated by
the two howls of the dog;" and, having said this, she hobbled off,
leaning on her walking-staff, without leaving time for reply.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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