This lad was named next in order of succession to Wilfred, failing
issue from the new marriage.
The morning sun was shining brightly one October day, in the year
of grace 1067, on the old moated manor of Aescendune, on its clear
river and its deep woods, now bright with all the gorgeous tints of
autumn.
All the good people of that well-known neighbourhood--well-known we
mean to the readers of the former Chronicles--were gathered
together in crowds on the green between the castle and the
venerable priory of St. Wilfred, founded, as related in the first
of these veritable family legends, by Offa of Aescendune.
Many a group of friends and kinsfolk had formed itself, some in
eager but not loud discussion, in which the guttural tones of that
English, so unlike our own, yet its direct progenitor in language,
contrasted sharply with an occasional shout in Norman French from
some marshal of the ceremonies, bent on clearing the course for the
passage of the coming procession.
A deep gloom sat on many a brow--on nearly every aged one; for many
of the youngsters were merry enough.
From the main archway of the old hall issued the bridal
procession--whence the funeral of Edmund had but emerged one year
before: she, surrounded by such friends and neighbours as yet lived
and were permitted to hold their lands up to this time in peace,
while he came from a neighbouring castle, newly erected, where he
had spent the night with great pomp and state, preceded by heralds
with their trumpets, and surrounded by all the knightly robbers who
had been already successful in grasping manors and estates round
Aescendune.
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