But the king did not hear them, and I looked doubtfully at him, wondering if he should be waked.
"Wilfrid," said Father Selred in a whisper, "surely the king dreams wondrous things.

His face is as the face of a saint!" And so indeed it was as he lay there in the evening light, and I wondered at him.

There was no smile around his mouth, but stillness and, as it seemed, an awe of what he saw, most peaceful, so that I almost feared to look on him.

The horns went again, soft and mellow in the distance from across the evening meadows.

The kine heard them, and thought them the homing call, and so lifted their lazy heads and waded homeward through the grass.
"Ethelbert, my king," said Sighard gently.
The eyes of the king opened, and he roused.
"Was that your voice, my thane," he asked, "or was it the voice of my dream ?" "I called you, lord, for the horns are sounding." "Thanks; but I would I had dreamed more! I do not know if I should have learned what it all meant had I slept on." "What was it, my son ?" said Selred.
The king was silent for a little, musing.
"It was a good dream, I think," he said.