So the messenger left the presence of the king and returned to the court of Donegild. She was delighted to see him again, and offered him all the hospitality she could possibly provide. He drank himself close to bursting. Then he passed out, and spent the night snorting and farting like a swine in its sty.

In the meantime, of course, Donegild had stolen the letter from the king and forged one in its place. ‘The king,’ she wrote, ‘commands the governor, on pain of death, to make sure that Constance is banished from the realm of Northumberland. She may remain only for three days. After that time, she must be gone.

‘Place her in the same ship in which she arrived here. She must take her infant son and all her possessions. Then push the ship out to sea. And forbid her ever to return.’ Oh Constance, well may your spirit tremble. Well may your dreams be sorrowful. Donegild intends to strike at you.

When the rising sun had roused the messenger, he took the shortest route to the castle. He presented the letter to the governor of that place who, on reading its contents, burst into lamentation. ‘Lord Christ,’ he said, ‘what is this world? It is a place of evil and of sin. Almighty God, why is it Your wish and will that the innocent should suffer? You are the judge of righteousness. Why do You allow the wicked to prosper? Oh Constance. I must now be your executioner or die a shameful death. There is no alternative.’

The old and the young of the castle wept at the news of Constance ’s banishment. They could not believe that the king had sent such a cursed letter. Yet Constance remained calm. She accepted the will of Christ. She went down to the ship, looking deathly pale, and kneeled upon the shore. ‘Almighty Lord,’ she prayed, ‘I accept your command. He who saved me from false blame, when I lived in this land, will now protect me from harm. He will comfort me on the wild ocean. I do not know His means, but He is as strong now as He has always been. In Him I trust. Blessed be the Lord God and the Virgin Mother. They are my rudder and my sail.’

Her little child lay wailing in her arms. She cradled him and soothed him. ‘Peace, my son,’ she whispered to him. ‘I will never harm you.’ She took off the scarf she had been wearing and placed it over his eyes and hair. Then she rocked the child in her arms, praying softly all the while.

‘Mother Mary, bright queen of heaven, it is true that humankind fell through the sin of Eve. Through the fault of the first woman, your blessed son was nailed to the cross. Your own eyes witnessed His torment. Your woe was greater than the weight of all the world. There is no comparison between your suffering and my affliction.

‘You saw your son tortured and slain before your eyes. My little son is yet in life. Now, blessed lady to whom all pray in this vale of tears, glory of womanhood and fairest maid. You are a haven of refuge, and the bright star of day. In your gentleness you take pity on all those in distress. Take pity on my infant son.

‘Oh little child. You are innocent, without sin or guilt. Why does your cruel father wish to kill you?’ Then she turned to the governor of the castle. ‘Have mercy on him,’ she said. ‘Let my little son dwell with you here.’ He shook his head. ‘But if you dare not save him, for fear of punishment, then kiss him once in his father’s name.’

She turned around and for the last time looked back at the land. ‘Farewell,’ she called. ‘And farewell, cruel husband!’ Then she rose up and walked along the shore towards the ship. She was caressing the child, as she went, and comforting him. Then at last she took her leave. She blessed herself and, with the child in her arms, stepped aboard the ship.

The ship was well stocked with provisions, and other necessary things for the long voyage ahead of her. God be thanked. And, dear God, grant her the winds and tides to steer her safely home. She must now make her way across the wild ocean.

Aella returned to the castle soon after her sad departure. He wanted to see, of course, his wife and newborn son. Where were they? The governor felt the cold creep into his heart. He told the king exactly what had occurred in his absence. He showed him the forged letter with the royal seal upon it.

‘I did no more and no less than you asked, sir. You commanded me on pain of death. What else was I to do?’ The messenger was summoned and put to the torture. He revealed every detail of his journey – where he had ridden, where he had supped, where he had spent the night. It all became plain. It did not take much enquiry or investigation to discover the guilty party in this wicked affair.

I do not know how they discovered that the queen mother had herself written those poisonous letters, but her fate was sealed soon after. All the chroniclers agree that Aella killed his own mother, blaming her for bringing dishonour and shame to his family. So ended the career of Donegild, a woman steeped in evil.

No one can adequately impart the grief that Aella suffered over the fate of his young wife and newborn son. I will leave it to one side, and return instead to the plight of Constance floating on the sea. By the will of Christ she spent five long years upon the waves, in pain and in woe, before finally she caught sight of land.

She came close to on a beach beneath a pagan castle – I do not have the name of it by me – where the sea delivered Constance and Maurice on to dry ground. Almighty God, I beseech you, preserve the fair maid and her child. Once more she has fallen into the hands of heathens, who might wish to kill her. Who can tell?

There came down from the castle a procession of people, eager to take a look at Constance and the foreign ship. But then, at nightfall, a steward of the castle came down secretly to the ship and told her that he would lie with her whether she liked it or not. God damn him for a rapist and a rogue.

Constance of course set up a great lamentation, in which her child joined. But then the Holy Virgin placed her mantle around her. In the course of his struggles with Constance the steward fell overboard and was instantly drowned. He had merited his punishment. So Christ kept Constance undefiled.

See the result of foul sensuality! It does not only darken the mind and mar the judgement. It can kill. The end of blind lust, the end of the dread deed itself, is misery. How many men have found that even the intention of committing that sin is enough to destroy them, whether they accomplish it or not?

How did this weak woman have the strength to defend herself against the wretch? How was it that the giant Goliath was slain by the young and untested David? How dared he even look upon that monster’s dreadful face? His strength was derived from the grace of Christ. Who gave Judith the courage and endurance to murder Holofernes in his tent and to lift the chosen people out of their misery? I say that it was all God’s work. And that same God instilled might and vigour within Constance herself.

So the ship sailed on through the narrow strait that separates Gibraltar from the tip of Africa. The wind came from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, driving the vessel in all directions and in none. Constance was weary unto death when one day the Virgin Mary, blessed among women, brought an end to all her woe with an act of goodness.

Let us leave her for a moment, however, and turn to her father. The emperor of Rome had learned, from diplomatic correspondence out of Syria, that all of the Christians had been slain at the banquet in Damascus. Of course he had also discovered that the wicked mother of the sultan had dishonoured his daughter and cast her adrift.

So he decided to take revenge. He sent his principal senator, with royal authority, to Syria. He sent all of his lords and knights, too, with express orders to deliver condign vengeance. For a long time the Roman forces burned and pillaged and killed whatever and whomever they found in the capital. When they had meted out the punishment, they set sail again for Rome.