Therefore the guilt of Edward's death is yours more than
mine, though my soul is stained red with his blood, seeing that you left
me to fight alone, and in my madness, not knowing what I did, I stained
myself with this crime.
But what you have done to me is of little moment, seeing that mine is
but one soul of the many thousands that were given into your keeping,
and your crime in wasting your life for the sake of base pleasures was
committed against an entire nation, and not of the living only but also
the great and glorious dead of the race of Cerdic--of the men who have
laboured these many centuries, shedding their blood on a hundred
stricken fields, to build up this kingdom of England; and when their
mighty work was completed it was given into your hands to keep and
guard. And you died and abandoned it; Death, your playmate, has taken
you away, and Edgar's peace is no more. Now your ships are scattered or
sunk in the sea, now the invaders are again on your coasts as in the old
dreadful days, burning and slaying, and want is everywhere and fear is
in all hearts throughout the land. And the king, your son, who inherited
your beautiful face and nought beside except your vices and whatever was
least worthy of a king, he too is now taking his pleasure, even as you
took yours, in a gay bejewelled dress, with some shameless woman at his
side and a wine-cup in his hand.
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