"It is the morning of the sixth day."

Then Harold took forth the key which Hilda had given him, and unlocked
the cyst, and there lay the white winding-sheet of the dead, and a
scroll. Harold took the scroll, and bent over it, reading by the
mingled light of the lamp and the dawn:

"All hail, Harold, heir of Godwin the great, and Githa the king-born!
Thou hast obeyed Hilda, and thou knowest now that Hilda's eyes read
the future, and her lips speak the dark words of truth. Bow thy heart
to the Vala, and mistrust the wisdom that sees only the things of the
daylight. As the valour of the warrior and the song of the scald, so
is the lore of the prophetess. It is not of the body, it is soul
within soul; it marshals events and men, like the valour--it moulds
the air into substance, like the song. Bow thy heart to the Vala.
Flowers bloom over the grave of the dead. And the young plant soars
high, when the king of the woodland lies low!"




CHAPTER VI.


The sun rose, and the stairs and passages without were filled with the
crowds that pressed to hear news of the Earl's health. The doors
stood open, and Gurth led in the multitude to look their last on the
hero of council and camp, who had restored with strong hand and wise
brain the race of Cerdic to the Saxon throne. Harold stood by the