So when the time came we sat waiting, each with his horn or cup before him, brimming with ale or cider or mead, as he chose, and men turned in their seats that they might see the pleasant little ceremony at the high place the better. As for me, I just turned in my bench end so that my feet were clear of the table, on which my arm and cup rested, and faced right down the hall, with, of course, no one at all between me and the steps of the high place. For now all had taken their seats except one cup bearer, who waited at the lowest step with the king's golden cup in one hand, and in the other a silver flagon of good Welsh wine to fill it withal. One would say that this was but a matter of chance, but as it happened presently it was well that I moved.

Now, in the hush was a little talk and laughter among those who were nearest the king, and then I saw the queen smile and speak to Elfrida, who blushed and looked well pleased, and then rose and came daintily round the end of the king's board. There a thane who sat at the table at the foot of the steps rose and handed her down them to where the servant waited. Ina had asked her to hand him the cup after the old fashion, she being the lady of the chief house in Glastonbury next his own. There she took the cup from the man's hand, and held it while he filled it heedfully. A little murmur that was all of praise went round the hall, and her colour rose again as she heard it, for it was not to be mistaken, and from the lower tables the voices were outspoken enough in all honesty.

Then she went up the steps holding the cup, and the king smiled on her as she came, and so she stood on the dais before the table and held out the wine, and begged the king to drink the "Bragi bowl" from her hands in her father's town.

The king bowed and smiled again, and rose up to take the cup from this fair bearer, and at that moment there was a sort of scuffle, unseemly enough, at the lower end of the hall near the door, and gruff voices seemed to be hushed as Ina glanced up with the cup yet untouched by his hand.

Then a man leapt from the hands of some who tried to hold him back, and he strode across the hall past the fire and to the very foot of the high place—as rough and unkempt a figure as ever begged for food at a king's table, unarmed, and a thrall to all seeming. And as he came he cried:

"Justice, Ina the king!—Justice!"

At that I and my men, who had sprung to our feet to hinder him, sat down again, for a suppliant none of us might hinder at any time. I did not remember seeing this man come in, but that was the business of the hall steward, unless there was trouble that needed the house-carles.

Ina frowned at this unmannerly coming at first, but his brow cleared as he heard the cry of the man. He signed to Elfrida to wait for a moment, and looked kindly at the thrall before him.

"Justice, Lord," the man said again.

"Justice you shall have, my poor churl," answered the king gently. "But this is not quite the time to go into the matter. Sit you down again, and presently you shall tell all to Owen the marshal, and thus it will come to me, and you shall see me again in the morning."

"Nay, but I will have justice here and now," the man said doggedly, and yet with some sort of appeal in his voice.

"Is it so pressing? Well, then, speak on. Maybe the vow that I shall make will be to see you righted."

And so the king sat down again, and the lady Elfrida waited, resting one hand on the table at the end of the dais farthest from me, and holding the golden cup yet in the other.

"What shall be done to the man who slays my brother?" the thrall cried.

And the king answered:

"If he has slain him by craft, he shall die; but if in fair fight and for what men deem reason, then he shall pay the full weregild that is due according to my dooms."

Then said the man, and his voice minded me of Owen's in some way:

"But and if he slew him openly in cold blood, for no wrong done to himself?"

"A strange doing," said the king—"but he should die therefor."

The king leant forward, with his elbow on the table to hear the better, and the man was close to the lowest step to be near him. It seemed that he was very wroth, for his right hand clutched the front of his rough jerkin fiercely, and his voice was harsh and shaking.

"It is your own word, Ina of Wessex, that the man who has slain my brother in this wise shall die. Lo, you! I am Morgan of Dyvnaint—and thus—"

There flashed from under the jerkin a long knife in the man's hand, and at the king he leapt up the low steps. But two of us had seen what was coming, and even as the brave maiden on his left dashed the full cup of wine in the man's face, blinding him, I was on him, so that the wine covered him and my tunic at once. I had him by the neck, and he gripped the table, and his knife flashed back at me wildly once, but I jerked him round and hurled him from the dais with a mighty crash, and so followed him and held him pinioned, while the cups and platters of the overturned table rolled and clattered round us.

Then rose uproar enough, and the hall was full of flashing swords. I mind that I heard the leathern peace thongs of one snap as the thane who tried to draw it tugged at the hilt, forgetting them. Soon I was in the midst of a half ring of men as I held the man close to the great fire on the hearth with his face downward and his right arm doubled under him. He never stirred, and I thought he waited for me to loose my hold on him.

Then came the steady voice of Ina:

"Let none go forth from the hall. To your seats, my friends, for there can be no more danger; and let the house-carles see to the man."

Two of my men took charge of my captive, even as he lay, and I stood up. Owen was close to me.

"The man is dead," he said in a strange voice.

"I doubt it," I answered, looking at him quickly, for the voice startled me. Then I saw that my foster father's face was white and drawn as with some trouble, and he was gazing in a still way at the man whom the warriors yet held on the floor.

"His foot has been in the fire since you hove him there, yet he has not stirred," he said.

Then I minded that I had indeed smelt the sharp smell of burning leather, and had not heeded it. So I told the two men to draw the thrall away and turn him over. As they did so we knew that he was indeed dead, for the long knife was deep in his side, driven home as he fell on it. And I saw that in the hilt of it was a wonderful purple jewel set in gold. It was not the weapon of a thrall.

That Ina saw also, and he came down from the high place, and stood and looked in the face of this one who would have slain him, fixedly for a minute.

Then he said, speaking to Owen in a low voice:

"Justice has been done, as it seems to me. Justice from a higher hand than mine, moreover."

Then he went back to his place, and standing there said in the dead hush that was on us all:

"It would seem that this man thought that he had somewhat against me, indeed, but I do not know him, or who his brother may have been. Nor have I slain any man save in open field of battle at any time, as all men know, save and except that I may be said to have done so by the arm of the law. Yet even so, our Wessex dooms are not such as take life but for the most plain cause, and that seldom as may be. Is there any one here who has knowledge of this man who calls himself Morgan of Dyvnaint? It seems to me that I have heard the name before."

Now Owen had gone back to his place, and while one or two thanes came forward and looked in the face of the man, whom they had not yet seen plainly, he spoke to the king, and Ina seemed to wonder at what he heard.

Then Herewald the ealdorman said:

"That is the name of one of the two Devon princes of the West Welsh, cousins of Gerent the king. We have trouble with their men, who raid our homesteads now and then."

At that a big man with a yellow moustache and long curling hair rose from among the franklins and said loudly, in a voice which was neither like that of a Briton nor a Saxon at all:

"Let me get a nearer look at him, and I will soon tell you if he is what he claimed to be."

And with no more ceremony he came to where I and the two house-carles yet stood, and looked and laughed a little to himself as he did so.

"He is Morgan the prince, right enough," he said. "And I can tell you all the trouble. Your sheriff hung his brother, Dewi, three months since for cattle lifting and herdsman slaying on this side Parrett River, somewhere by Puriton, where no Welshman should be. I helped hunt the knaves at the time. The sheriff took him for a common outlaw like his comrades, and it was in my mind that there would be trouble. So I told the sheriff, and he said that if the king himself got mixed up with outlaws and cattle thieves he must even take his chance with the rest. And thereon I said—"

"Thanks, friend," said Ina. "The rest shall be for tomorrow. Bide here tonight, that you may tell all at the morning."

The man made a courtly bow enough, and went back to his seat, and then Ina bade Owen see to his lodgment, and after that the thralls carried out the body. I went quietly and walked along the lower tables, bidding my men see if more Welshmen were present, but finding none, and then I found the hall steward wringing his hands, with an ashy face, at the far end of the hall.

"Master Oswald," he said, almost weeping, "how that man came in here I do not know. I saw him not until he rose up. None seem to have seen him enter, but men have so shifted their places that it seemed not strange to any near him that they had not seen him before."

"Had you seen him you could not have turned him away," I said. "He came as a suppliant, and the king's word is strict concerning such at these times. Good Saxon enough he spoke, too, in the way of many of our half Welsh border thralls. I do not think that you will be blamed. Most likely he slipped in as the tables were cleared just now. There was coming and going enough, and we have many strangers here.

"Who is the yellow-haired man?"

"A chapman from the town. Some shipmaster whom the ealdorman knows."

Now, after I was back in my place and the bustle was ended, there fell an uneasy silence, for men knew not if the feast was to go on. Many of the ladies had gone, with the queen, and Elfrida was there no longer. But Ina stood up with a fresh cup in his hand, and he smiled and said, while the eyes of all were on him:

"Friends, we have seen a strange thing, but you have also seen the deeds of a brave maiden and a ready warrior to whom I am beholden for my life, as is plain enough. Yet we will not let the wild ways of our western neighbours mar the keeping of our holy tide. Maybe there is more to be learnt of the matter, but if so that can rest. Think now only of these two brave ones, I pray you, for I have yet the Bragi bowl to drink, and it is not hard to say whom I should pledge therein."

Then he looked round for Elfrida, not having noticed that she had gone with the queen.

"Why," he said, "it was in my mind to pledge the lady first, but I fear she has been fain to leave us. So I do not think that I can do better than pledge both my helpers together, and then Oswald can answer for the lady and himself at once."

He rose and held the cup high, and I rose also, not quite sure if I were myself or some one else, with all the hall looking at me.

"Drinc hael to the lady Elfrida, bravest and fairest in all the land of Somerset!" he cried. "Drinc hael, Oswald the king's thane—thane by right of ready and brave service just rendered!"

Then he drank with his eyes on me, and there went up a sort of cheer at his words, for men love to see any service rewarded on the spot if it may be so. Now I was at a loss what to say, and the lady should have been here to bring the cup to me in all formality. Maybe I should have stood there silent and somewhat foolish, but that the ealdorman, her father, helped me out.

"Come and do homage for the new rank, lad," he said in a low voice.

He was at the lower table near me now, for the high table had been broken and the king stood alone on the dais.

So I went to the steps, and bent one knee at their top, and kissed the hand of the king, and then held out the hilt of my sword, that he might seem to take it and give it me again. But he bade me rise, and so he took off his own sword, which was a wondrous one, and the token of the submission of some chief on the Welsh border beyond Avon, and he girt it on me with his own hands.

"You nigh gave your life for me, my thane," he said. "That man's knife was perilously near you."

He touched my tunic with his hand, and I looked. Across it where my heart beat was a long slit that I had not found out yet, where the knife flew at me. That stroke must have been the man's bane, because to reach me thus he had thrown his arm across his chest, and so had fallen on his weapon.

Then I was going, I think, though indeed I hardly know what I did at that moment, but the king stayed me, laughing.

"Do not think that I am going to let you off the cup, though. Now you shall pledge me, and if you have any vow to make which is fitting for a thane, make it and let us all hear it. But you have also the lady to think of in your words."

Then there was a little rustle at the door which was on the high place, and the queen returned with some of her ladies, hearing that all was seemly again, and she stood smiling at these last words. But Elfrida was not with her, and I was glad, else I had been more mazed yet. So I plucked up heart and took the cup from the hand of the king, trying to collect my thoughts into some sort of fitting words.

"Drinc hael Cyning," I said, while my voice shook. "Here do I vow before all the Saints and before this company—that I will do my best to prove myself worthy of this honour that has been set on me!"

"Why, Oswald," said the queen, "that is no sort of vow such as you should make, for we know that already, and you have proved it now if never before. And you have forgotten Elfrida."

Now, I thought to myself that the last thing that I was ever likely to do was to forget that maiden, and with that a thought came into my head, and as the queen was smiling at me, and every one was waiting, I grew desperate, and must needs out with it.

"Now, I cannot do better than this," I said, finding my courage all of a sudden. "Here do I add to my vow that so long as my life shall last I will not again forget the Lady Elfrida. Nor will I be content until I am held worthy by her to—to guard her all the rest of my days."

With that I drained the cup, and while the thanes laughed and cheered all round me, and Ina smiled as if well pleased enough, the queen set her hand on my arm, smiling also, and said:

"That was well said, my thane, but for one turn of the words. Why did you not tell us plainly that you mean to win her? We all know what you mean."

Then I went to my place, and I glanced at Herewald, to see how he would take all this. Somewhat seemed to have amused him mightily, and his eyes brimmed with a jest as he looked at me. Presently, when men forgot me in listening to the vow Ina made, that he would add somewhat to the new Church in thankfulness for this escape, the ealdorman came near me and whispered:

"You are a cautious youth, Oswald, for I never heard a man turn a hint from a lady better in my life. Nevertheless, if you are not careful, Ethelburga will wed you to Elfrida for all your craft."

He laughed again, and said no more. But I was looking at Owen, who seemed to have some thoughts of his own that were troubling him sorely. He smiled and nodded, indeed, when he caught my eye, but then he grew grave again directly, and afterwards his horn stood before him on the table untasted, and his look seemed far away, though round him men sang and all was merry.

However, as one may suppose, the merriment was not what it should have been, and none wondered much when Ina rose and left the table with a few pleasant parting words. He was never one to bide long at a feast, and he knew, maybe, that the house-carles and younger men would be more at ease when his presence was no longer felt by them. With him went Owen and the ealdorman, and Nunna, at some sign of his, and after they went I had to stand no little banter concerning my vow, as may be supposed.

I was not sorry when a page came and bade me join the king in his own chamber, though it was all good-natured and in no sort of unkindness. I will not say that I did not enjoy it either. So I went as I was bidden, and found that some sort of council was being held, and that those four were looking grave over it. I supposed they had some errand for me at first, but in no long time I knew that what was on hand was nought more or less than the beginning of parting between Owen and me.

I will make little of all that was said, though it was a long matter, and heavy in the telling, and maybe tangled here and there to me as I listened. I think that Ina understood that trouble fell on me as I heard all, for he looked kindly on me from his great chair, while Nunna sat on the table and was silent, stroking his beard, as if thinking. But Owen drew me to the settle by him, and bade me hearken while the king told me the tale I had to learn.

Then I heard how Owen, my foster father, was indeed a prince of the old Cornish line that came from Arthur, and how his cousins, Morgan and Dewi, had plotted to oust him from his place at the right hand of Gerent the king, and had succeeded only too well, so that he had had to fly. It matters not what their lies concerning him had been, nor do I think that Owen knew all that had been said against him, but Gerent had banished him, and so he had wandered to Mercia, and thence after a year or two to Sussex, having heard of the Irish monks of the old Western Church at Bosham. So he had met with me, and thus he and I had come to Ina's court together.

And as I heard all, I knew that it had been for my sake that he was content to serve as a simple forester at Eastdean, for Ina told me that across the Severn among the other princes of the old Welsh lands he would have been more than welcome. I could say nothing, but I set my hand on his and left it there, and he smiled at me, and grasped it.

"And now," said Ina, "your hand has in some sort avenged the old wrong, for you have brought about the end of Morgan, who was Owen's foe. But this is a matter we need to hear more concerning. Do you bring us that stranger that he may tell us what he knows."

I went to the hall again, and found him easily enough, for all men were looking at him. He was in the midst of the hall, juggling in marvellous wise with a heavy woodman's axe, which he played with as if it were a straw for lightness. Even as I entered from the door on the high place he was whirling it for a mighty stroke which seemed meant to cleave a horn cup which he had set on a stool before him, and I wondered. But he stayed the stroke as suddenly as if his great arms had been turned to steel, so that the axe edge rested on the rim of the vessel without so much as notching it, and at that all the onlookers cheered him.

"Now it may be known," said he, smiling broadly, "why men call me Thorgils the axeman."

Then he threw the unhandy weapon into the air whirling, and caught it as it came to hand again, so that it balanced on his palm, and so he held it as I went to him, and told him the king would speak with him.

Whereon he threw the axe at the doorpost, so that it stuck there, and laughed at the new shout of applause, and so turned down his sleeves and bade me lead him where I would.

He made a stiff, outlandish salute as he stood before Ina, and the king returned it.

"I have sent for you now, friend, rather than wait for morning," he said, "for it seems to me that we have business that must be seen to with the first light. Will you tell us what you know of this man who has been slain? I think you are no Welshman of Cornwall."

"I am Thorgils the Norseman of Watchet, king," he answered. "Thorgils the axeman, men call me, by reason, of some skill with that weapon which your folk seem to hold in no repute, which is a pity. Shipmaster am I by trade, and I am here to seek for cargo, that I may make one more voyage this winter with the more profit, having to cross to Dyfed, beyond the narrow sea, though it is late in the year."

"I thought you might be a Dane from Tenby."

"The Welsh folk know the difference between us by this time," Thorgils said, with a little laugh. "They call them 'black heathen' and us 'white heathen,' though I don't know that they love us better than they do them. By grace of Gerent the king, to be politic, or by grace of axe play, to speak the truth, we have a little port of our own here on this side the water, at the end of the Quantocks, where we seek to bide peaceably with all men as traders."

"Ay! I have heard of your town," said Ina. "Now, can tell us how Morgan and his brother came to be in company with outlaws?"

"He fell out with Gerent over us, to begin with. I went with our chiefs to Exeter when we first came seeking a home, to promise tribute if we were left in peace in the place we had chosen. Gerent was willing enough, but Morgan, who claims some sort of right over the Devon end of the kingdom, was against our biding at all, and there were words. However, Gerent and we had our way, and so we thought to hear no more of the matter. But the next thing was that Morgan gathered a force and tried to turn us out on his own account, and had the worst of the affair. That angered Gerent, for he lost some good men outside our stockades. And then other things cropped up between them. I have heard that the old king found out old lies told by Morgan concerning Owen the prince, whom men hope to see again, but I know little of that. Anyway, Morgan and his brother fled, and this is the end thereof. We heard too that he plotted to take the throne, and it is likely."

"Thanks, friend," Ina said. "That is a plain tale, and all we need to know. But what say men of Owen, whom you spoke of? Is it known that he lives?"

"Oh ay. They say that you know more of him than any one. Men have seen him here at Glastonbury. Moreover, Gerent came to Norton, just across the Quantocks, yesterday, and it is thought that he wants to send a message to you asking after him. There will be joy in West Wales if he goes back to the right hand of the king, for one would think that he was a fairy prince by the way he is spoken of."

Thereat Ina smiled at Owen, and Thorgils saw it, and knew what was meant in a moment. He turned to Owen with a quick look, and said frankly:

"True enough, Prince, but I did not know that I spoke of a listener. On my word, if you do go back, you will have hard work to live up to what is expected of you. Maybe what is more to the point is this, that Morgan has more friends than enough, and it is likely that they will stick at little to avenge him.

"Howbeit," he added with a quaint smile, "it shall not be said that Thorgils missed a chance. Prince, if you do go back to Gerent you will be his right hand, as they say. Therefore I will ask you at once to have us Norsemen in favour, so far as we need any. Somewhat is due to the bearer of tidings, by all custom."

Ina laughed, and even Owen smiled at the ready Norseman, but Herewald the ealdorman and I wondered at him, for he spoke as to equals, with no sort of fear of the king on him, which was not altogether the way of men who stood before Ina.

Then said Owen quietly:

"Friend, I think there is a favour I may ask you, rather. I have bided away from my uncle, King Gerent, because I would not return to him unasked, being somewhat proud, maybe. But now it seems to King Ina and myself that needs must I go to him to take the news of this death of Morgan myself. It is a matter that might easily turn to a cause of war between Wessex and West Wales, for if the man tried to slay our king in his own court, it may also be told that here was slain a prince of Dyvnaint. There is full need that the truth should reach the king before rumour makes the matter over great. You have seen all, and are known to the Welsh court as a friend. Come with me, therefore, tomorrow and tell the tale."

"That I will, Prince," Thorgils said. "You will be welcome; but as I warn you, there will be need for care."

"You know somewhat of the ways of the Welsh court," said Ina.

"Needs must, Lord King. I am a shipmaster, and every trader I carry across the sea, sometimes to South Wales, and sometimes to Bristol, and betimes so far as to Ireland, tells me all he has learned. It were churlish not to listen, and then we need warning against such attacks as that of Morgan. Moreover, one likes somewhat to talk of."

"That is plain enough," said Nunna, laughing.

"Maybe I do talk too much," answered the Norseman. "It is a failing in my family. But my sister is worse than I."

Then the king laughed again, and so dismissed the shipman, and presently Owen bade me make all preparation for riding to Norton on the morrow early. Ina would have us take a strong guard, and I should bring them back, either with or without Owen, as things went.

But little sleep had I that night, for I knew too well that from henceforth my life and that of my foster father must lie apart, and how far sundered we might be I could not tell. There was no love of the Saxon in West Wales, nor of the Welshman in Wessex.



CHAPTER IV. HOW THE LADY ELFRIDA SPOKE WITH OSWALD, AND OF THE MEETING WITH GERENT.

Gerent, the king of the West Welsh, as we called him, ruled over all the land of Devon and Cornwall, from the fens of the Tone and Parrett Rivers to the Land's End. Only those wide fens, across which he could not go, had kept our great King Kenwalch from pushing Wessex yet westward, and along their line had been our frontier since his days until, not long before Ina came to the throne, Kentwine crossed them to the north and cleared the marauding Welsh of the Quantock hills and forests from the river to the sea, setting honest Saxon franklins here and there in the new-won land, to keep it for him. It was out of those deep wooded hills that Morgan had come on the raid that ended so badly for his brother and himself, for the wasted country was yet a sort of no-man's land, where outlaws found easy harbourage, coming mostly from the Welsh side. It would not need much to set the tide of war moving westward again, now that our men knew the fenland as well as ever the British learned the secrets of the paths.

Now that the time seemed to have come for him to leave Ina, Owen feared most of all that the long peace would end, for that would mean the rending of old friendships and certain parting from me. How much longer the peace would last was very doubtful, and men said that it was only the wisdom of Aldhelm that had kept it so well, and now he was dead. It was not so long since that a west Welshman would not so much as eat with a Saxon, so great was the hatred they had for us, though that had worn off more or less. Maybe it would have passed altogether but that there were the differences between the ways of the two Churches which were always cropping up and making things bitter again, and those were the troubles that Aldhelm, whom Gerent honoured, had most tried to smooth away with some sort of success. Yet it was well known that many of the Welsh priests and people were sorely against peace with the men who followed the way of Austin of Canterbury.

As for me, I almost wondered that Ina seemed so ready to part with Owen, but presently I saw that if Gerent owned him again, my foster father would be a link between the two kingdoms, which would make for peace in every way. But for all that, in my own heart was a sort of half hope that in spite of what the Norseman had heard, Owen would not be welcomed back to the west, else I should lose him altogether. There was no intercourse between our courts, now that Aldhelm was gone.

But in the morning, when I came to say some of this to Owen, he smiled at me, and said:

"Wait, Oswald. Time enough for trouble when it comes. Maybe you and I will be back here this evening, and if not, I hope that my staying with my uncle will mean peace between our lands. Let it be so till we have seen what may be our fortune at Norton."

So I tried to let the trouble pass, and indeed at the morning meal I had my new rank to think of, for my comrades would not forget it, nor would they let me do so. The first man to greet me as thane was Thorgils the Norseman, too, and he went with me to see to choosing men and horses for our journey, and I was glad of his gossip, for it kept me from thinking overmuch of the heavier things that had kept me waking.

He would guide us across the hills to Norton, where Gerent was; for though we knew somewhat of the Quantocks, beyond them we did not go. The palace where the king lay was an ancient Roman stronghold, and had belonged to Morgan, who was dead; and though Thorgils had heard that Gerent was there to seek Owen, it was more likely that he had come to see that the outlawed brothers did not gather any force against him in their own place. It was many a year since he had been so near our border.

Presently Thorgils would go down the town to the inn where he had bestowed his horse, and I went with him, having an hour left before we started, rather than face any more banter concerning my thanedom. It was almost in my mind to go to the ealdorman's house to ask after Elfrida, but I forbore, being shy, I suppose, and so left the Norseman to join us presently, and went back to the king's hall by a short cut from the village, whereby I had a meeting which was unlooked for altogether.

That way was a sort of stolen short cut across the king's orchard, which some of us used at times in coming from village to hall, for it lay between the two on the south side of the hall where the ground sloped sunwards. And as I leapt over the fence I was aware of a lady who was gathering some of the ruddy crab apples from the ground under their bare tree, for the hot ale of the wassail bowl, doubtless, for we leave them out to mellow with the frost thus. She did not heed me as I came over the soft snow, and when she did at last look up I saw that she was Elfrida. Just for a moment I wished that I had gone round by the road, but there was no escape for me now, for she had seen me. So I unbonneted and went to meet her.

There was a little flush on her face when she saw me, but it was not altogether one of pleasure, for when I wished her good morrow, all that I had in return was a cold little bow and the few words that needs must be spoken in answer. Whereat I felt somewhat foolish; but it did not seem to me that I had done aught to deserve quite so much coldness, not being a stranger by any means. So I would even try to find the way to a better understanding, and I thought that maybe the sight of me had brought back some of the terror of last night.

"Now, I hope that the rough doings of the feast have not been troublous to you, Lady Elfrida," I said, trying with as good a grace as I could not to see her cold looks.

I saw that she did indeed shrink a little from them as I spoke, even in the passing thought.

But she answered:

"Such things are best forgotten as soon as may be. I do not wish to hear more of them."

"Nevertheless," I answered, "there are some who will not forget them, and I fear that you must needs be ready to hear of your part in them pretty often."

"Ay," she said somewhat bitterly, "I suppose that I am the talk of the whole place now."

"If so, there would be many who would be glad to be spoken of as you must needs be. There is nought but praise for you."

Then she turned on me, and the trouble was plain enough in a moment.

"But for yourself, Thane, there would have been nought that I could not have put up with. But little thought for me was there when you made me the jest of your idle comrades over that foolish cup of the king's."

That was a new way of looking at the matter, in all truth. I supposed that a vow of fealty to any lady would have been taken by her as somewhat on which to pride herself maybe, from whomsoever it came. Which seemed to be foolishness in this fresh light. Still, it came to me that her anger was not altogether fair, for I was the one who had to stand the jesting, and not one of my honest comrades so much as mentioned her name lightly in any wise.

"That was no jest of mine, Elfrida," I said gravely enough. "If there is any jest at all that will come from my oath, it will be that I have been foolish enough to vow fealty to one who despises me. The last thing that I would do is anything that might hurt you. And my vow stands fast, whether you scorn me or not, for if it was made in a moment, it is not as if I had not had long years to think on in which we have been good friends enough."

"Ay," she said, turning from me and reaching some apples that yet hung on a sheltered bough, "I have heard the terms of that vow from my father, more than once. You can keep it without trouble."

"Have I your leave to try to keep it?"

"You have had full leave to be a good friend of ours all these years, as you say, and I do not see that the vow binds you to more. No one thinks that you are likely to forget last night, or any one who took part in that cruel business. And if a friend will not help to guard a lady—well, he would be just nidring, no more or less."

Then she took up her basket, which was pretty full and no burden for a lady, for she had picked fast and heedlessly as she spoke to me, and so turned away.

"Nay, but surely you know that there was more than that meant," I said lamely.

"No need to have haled my name into the matter at all," she said.

And then, seeing that my eyes went to the basket, she smiled a little, and held it to me with both hands.

"Well, if you meant some new sort of service, you can begin by carrying this for me. I am going to the queen's bower."

I took it without a word, and we went silently together to the door that led to the queen's end of the hall. There she stayed for a moment with her hand on the latch.

But she had only a question to ask me:

"Do you go with your father to the Welsh king's court, as it is said that he will go shortly?"

"We start together in an hour's time or thereabout," I answered, wondering.

"Well then, take this to mind you of your vow," she said, and threw a little bronze brooch, gilt and set with bright enamel, into the basket, and so fled into the house, leaving me on the doorstep with the apples.

I set them down there, and had a mind to leave the brooch also. However, on second thoughts I took it, and went my way in a puzzled state of mind. It certainly seemed that Elfrida was desperately angry with me for reasons which were not easy to fathom, and yet she had given me this—that is, if to have a thing thrown at one is to have it given. But I was not going to quarrel with the manner of a gift from Elfrida, and so I went on with it in my hand, and as I turned the corner into a fresh path I also ran into the abbot of the new minster, who was on his way to speak with Owen before he set out. He had been a great friend of Bishop Aldhelm's, and I had known him well since the old days of Malmesbury.

"So Oswald," he cried, "I have been looking for you, that I might wish you all good in your thaneship. Why, some of us are proud of you. And I, having known you since you were a child, feel as if I had some sort of a share in your honours. But what is amiss? One would look to see you the gayest of the gay, and it seems as if the world had gone awry with you."

Now, the abbot was just the friend to whom I could tell my present trouble without fear of being mocked, for he was wont to stand to us boys of the court as the good friend who would help us out of a scrape if he could, and make us feel ashamed thereof in private afterward, in all kindliness. So I told him what was on my mind, for he was at the feast last night.

"It is all that vow of mine," I said. "I have just met Elfrida, and she is angry with me for naming her at all."

"Unfair," said the abbot. "You could not have helped it, seeing that you were bidden to do so."

I had forgotten that, and it was possible that Elfrida did not know it. So I said that I did not look for quite the scorn I had met with, at all events. Whereon the abbot stayed in his walk and asked more, trying to look grave as he heard me, and soon he had all the story.

"So you carried the basket like any thrall, and had my Yuletide gift to her in payment," he said, with his eyes twinkling; "I will ask if she has lost it presently, and you will be avenged."

He laughed again, and then said more gravely, but with a smile not far off:

"Go to, Oswald, don't ask me to make the ways of a damsel plain to you, for that was more than Solomon himself could compass. But I think I know what is wrong. Her father has been making a jest to her of the way you worded your vow, laughing mightily after his manner, and she is revenging herself on you. Never mind. Wait till you come back from this journey, and then see how things are with her. Now let us talk of your errand, for it is important."

Then we went slowly together, and he told me how that he had foreseen for a long time that Owen would return to his uncle and take his right place again. Also he told me that Morgan had a strong party on his side, and that we might have trouble with them if Owen was taken into favour again.

"As I hope he may be," he added with a sigh; "for I have seen the war cloud drifting nearer every year under the guidance of Morgan and his fellows."

Then we turned into the courtyard, and he went to speak to Owen in the hall, turning with a last smile to bid me hide the brooch, lest Elfrida should hear some jesting about that next. So I pinned it under my cloak, and then went and donned my arms, and saw to all things for the journey, both for Owen and myself; and so at last the hour came when I led the men round to the great door of the hall, and sent one to say that all was ready.

Now the king came forth, and with him was Owen. Ina wore his everyday dress, but my foster father was fully armed, and as those two stood there I thought that I had never seen a more kingly looking pair, silent and thoughtful both, and with lines of care on their foreheads, and both in their prime of life.

Behind me I heard Thorgils say to Godred, the chief house-carle: "If there were choice, I would take the king that wears the war gear. That is the only dress that to my mind fits a man who shall lead warriors."

Now the king came and spoke with me, bidding me be on my guard against any attack while we were at Norton, telling me plainly also that he deemed that there was danger to both of us at the first, somewhat in the way in which the abbot had already spoken to me. I daresay the words were his, for he had been counselling Owen.

Then the queen came forth with her ladies, and there was an honour for us, for she herself brought the stirrup cup to Owen, bidding him farewell, at the same time that the king must needs send Elfrida with another cup to me, saying that it was my due for last night's omission. But there was no smile as she set it in my hand, and she waited with head turned away until I gave it back to her, as if she looked at Owen rather than any one else. Then it was only a short word of farewell that she said to me, and yet it did seem that her eyes were less grave than she would seem in face as she turned back to the other ladies on the hall steps.

Then Owen unhelmed and turned his horse to the gates, and after him we went clattering down the street. In a minute or two Thorgils came alongside me.

"So that was the lady of the vow, surely. Well, you may be excused for making it, though indeed it is rash to bind oneself—nay, but it seems that this is one of those matters whereon I must hold my tongue!"

For I had spurred my horse a little impatiently, and he understood well enough. I did not altogether care that this stranger should talk of my affairs—more particularly as they did not seem to be going at all rightly. So he said no more of them, but began to talk of himself gaily, while Owen rode alone at our head, as he would sometimes if his thoughts were busy.

Presently he reined up and came alongside us, taking his part in our talk in all cheerfulness. And from that time I had little thought but of the pleasantness of the ride in the sharp winter air and under the bright sun with him toward the new court which I had often longed to see, with its strange ways, in the ancient British-Roman palace that he had so often told me of.

So we rode along the ancient and grass-grown Roman road that lies on the Polden ridge, hardly travelled save by a few chapmen, since the old town they called Uxella was lost in the days of my forefathers. The road had no ending now, as one may say, for beyond the turning to the bridge across the Parrett for which we were making it passed to nought but fen and mere where once had been the city. All the wide waters on either side of the hills were hard frozen, and southward, across to where we could see the blue hill of ancient Camelot, the ice flashed black and steely under the red low sun of midwinter. Before us the Quantocks lay purple and deepest brown where the woods hid the snow that covered them. Over us, too, went the long strings of wild geese, clanging in their flight in search of open water—and it was the wolf month again, and even so had they fled on that day when Owen found me in the snow.

And therewith we fell into talk of Eastdean, and dimly enough I recalled it all. I knew that an Erpwald held the place even yet, but I cared not. It was but a pleasant memory by reason of the coming of Owen, and I had no thought even to see the place again. Only, as we talked it did seem to me that I would that I knew that the grave of my father was honoured.

Then we left the old road, and crossed the ancient Parrett bridge, where the Roman earthworks yet stood frowning as if they would stay us. They were last held against Kenwalch, and now we were in that no-man's land which he had won and wasted. Then we climbed the long slope of the Quantocks, whence we might look back over the land we had left, to see the Tor at Glastonbury shouldering higher and higher above the lower Poldens, until the height was reached and the swift descent toward Norton began. There we could see all the wild Exmoor hills before us, with the sea away to our right, and Thorgils shewed us where lay, under the very headlands of the hills we were crossing, the place where his folk had their haven. He said that he could see the very smoke from the hearths, but maybe that was only because he knew where it ought to be, and we laughed at him.

So we came to the outskirts of Norton, and all the way we had seen no man. The hills were deserted, save by wild things, and of them there was plenty. And now for the first time I saw men living in houses built of stone from ground to roof, and that was strange to me. We Saxons cannot abide aught but good timber. Here none of us had ever come, and still some of the houses built after the Roman fashion remained, surrounded, it is true, by mud hovels of yesterday, as one might say, but yet very wonderful to me. Many a time I had seen the ruined foundations of the like before, but one does not care to go near them. The wastes our forefathers made of the old towns they found here, and had no use for, lie deserted, for they are haunted by all things uncanny, as any one knows. Maybe that is because the old Roman gods have come back to their old places, now that the churches are no longer standing.

Through the village we went, and then came to the walls of the ancient stronghold, and they seemed as if they were but lately raised, so strong were they and high. The gates were in their places, and at them was a guard, and through them, for they stood open, I could see the white walls and flat roof of the house, or rather palace, which was either that of the Roman governor of the place, or else had been rebuilt or restored from time to time in exactly the same wise, so that it stood fair and lordly and fit for a king's dwelling even yet. Maybe the wattled hovels of the thralls that clustered round it inside the great earthworks were not what would have been suffered in the days of those terrible men who made the fortress, but I doubt not that they stood on the foundations of the quarters of the soldiers who had held it for Rome.

The guard turned out in orderly wise as we came to the gates, and they wore the Roman helm and corselet, and bore the heavy Roman spear and short heavy sword. But that war gear I had seen before on the other Welsh border, and I had a scar, moreover, that would tell that I had been within reach of one weapon or the other. I knew their tongue, too, almost as well as my own, for Owen had taught it me, saying that I might need it at some time. It had already been of use to the king in the frontier troubles, for I could interpret for him, but I think that Owen had in his mind the coming of some such day as this.

Now, Owen would have me speak to the guard and tell them our errand, and I rode forward and did so. The short day was almost over by this time; and the captain who came to meet me did not seem to notice my Saxon arms in the shadow of the high rampart. Hearing that we bore a message for the king, he sent a man to ask for directions, and meanwhile we waited. I asked him if there was any news, thinking it well to know for certain if aught had been heard yet of the end of Morgan. News of that sort flies fast.

"No news at all," he answered. "What did you expect?"

"I had heard of the death of a prince, and do not know the rights thereof."

"Why, where have you been? That is old news. It was only Dewi, and he is no loss. The Saxon sheriff hung him, even as the king said he would do to him an he caught him, so maybe it is the same in the end. I have not heard that any one is sorry to lose him."

He laughed, and if it was plain that Morgan's brother was not loved, it was also plain that nought was known of the end of the other prince yet. We were first with the tidings here, and that might be as well.

Now a message came to bid us enter, and the steward who brought it told us that we were to be lodged in some great guest chamber, and that we should speak with the king shortly.

The men bided outside the walls, the captain leading them to a long row of timber-built stables which stood close at hand by the gate. Presently, when the horses were bestowed, they would be brought to the guest hall; so Thorgils went with them, while the steward led Owen and myself through the gate and to the palace, which stood squarely in the midst of the fortress, with a space between it and the other buildings which filled the area.

By daylight I knew afterwards that it was uncared for, and somewhat dilapidated without, but in the falling dusk it looked all that it should. We entered through a wide door, and passed a guardroom where many men lounged, armed and unarmed, and then were in a courtyard formed by the four sides of the building, wonderfully paved, and with a frozen fountain in its midst. There were windows all round the walls which bounded this court, and the light shone red from them, very cheerfully, and already there was bustle of men who crossed and passed through the palace making ready for our reception. The steward led us to the northern wing of the house across this court, and so took us into an antechamber, as it seemed, warm and bright, with hanging lamps, and with painted walls and many-patterned tiled floor, but for all its warmth with no fire to be seen, which was strange enough to me.

And so soon as the bright light shone on Owen I saw the steward start and gaze at him fixedly, and then as Owen smiled a little at him he fell on his knees and cried softly some words of welcome, with tears starting in his eyes.

"Oh my Lord," he said, "is it indeed you? This is a good day.—A thousand welcomes!"

Owen raised him kindly, and set his finger on his lip.

"It is well that you have been the first to know me, friend," he said. "Now hold your peace for a little while till we see what says my uncle. I must have word with him at once, if it can be managed, before others know me. It will be best."

"He waits you, Lord. It was his word that he would see the Saxon alone."

Then he led us into another room like to that we left, but larger, and with rich carpets on the tiled floor, and there sat Gerent alone to wait us. I thought him a wonderful looking old man, and most kingly, as he rose and bowed in return when we greeted him. His hair was white, and his long beard even whiter, but his eyes were bright. Purple and gold he wore, and those robes and the golden circlet on his head shewed that he had put on the kingly dress to meet with the messenger of a king.

Almost had Owen sprung toward him, but he forbore, and when the king had taken his seat he went slowly to him, holding out a letter which Ina had written for him, saying nothing. And Gerent took it without a word or so much as a glance at the bearer from under his heavy brows, and opened it.

Owen stood back by me, and we watched the face of the king as he read. We saw his brows knit themselves fiercely at first, and then as he went on they cleared until he seemed as calm as when he first met us. But the flush that had come with the frown had not faded when at last he looked keenly at us.

"Come nearer," he said in a harsh voice, speaking in fair Saxon. "Know you what is written herein?"

"I know it," Owen said.

"Here Ina says that this is borne by one whom I know. Is it you or this young warrior?"

Then Owen went forward and fell on one knee before the king, and said in his own tongue—the tongue of Cornwall and of Devon:

"I am that one of whom Ina has spoken. Yet it is for Gerent to say whether he will own that he knows me even yet."

I saw the king start as the voice of Owen came to him in the familiar language, and he knitted his brows as one who tries to recall somewhat forgotten, and he looked searchingly in the face of the man who knelt before him, scanning every feature.

And at last he said in a hushed voice, not like the harsh tones of but now:

"Can it be Owen?—Owen, the son of my sister? They said that one like him served the Saxon, but I did not believe it. That is no service for one of our line."

"What shall an exile do but serve whom he may, if the service be an honoured one? Yet I will say that I wandered long, seeing and learning, before there came to me a reason that I should serve Ina. To you I might not return."

But the king was silent, and I thought that he was wroth, while Owen bided yet there on his knee before him, waiting his word. And when that came at last, it was not as I feared.

Slowly the king set forth his hand, and it shook as he did so. He laid it on Owen's head, while the letter that was on his knees fluttered unheeded to the floor as he bent forward and spoke softly:

"Owen, Owen," he said, "I have forgotten nought. Forgive the old blindness, and come and take your place again beside me."

And as Owen took the hand that would have raised him and kissed it, the old king added in the voice of one from whom tears are not so far:

"I have wearied for you, Owen, my nephew. Sorely did I wrong you in my haste in the old days, and bitterly have I been punished. I pray you forgive."

Then Owen rose, and it seemed to me that on the king the weight of years had fallen suddenly, so that he had grown weak and needful of the strong arm of the steadfast prince who stood before him, and I took the arm of the steward and pulled him unresisting through the doorway, so that what greeting those two might have for one another should be their own.

Then said the steward to me as we looked at one another:

"This is the best day for us all that has been since the prince who has come back left us. There will be joy through all Cornwall."

But I knew that what I dreaded had come to pass, and that from henceforth the way of the prince of Cornwall and of the house-carle captain of Ina's court must lie apart, and I had no answer for him.



CHAPTER V. HOW OSWALD FELL INTO BAD HANDS, AND FARED EVILLY, ON THE QUANTOCKS.

It would be long for me to tell how presently Owen called me in to speak with the king, and how he owned me as his foster son in such wise that Gerent smiled on him, and spoke most kindly to me as though I had indeed been a kinsman of his own. And then, after we had spoken long together, Thorgils was sent for, and he told the tale of the end of Morgan plainly and in few words, yet in such skilful wise that as he spoke I could seem to see once more our hall and myself and Elfrida at the dais, even as though I were an onlooker.

"You are a skilful tale teller," the king said when he ended. "You are one of the Norsemen from Watchet, as I am told."

"I am Thorgils the shipmaster, who came to speak with you two years ago, when we first came here. Men say that I am no bad sagaman."

"This is a good day for me," Gerent said, "and I will reward you for your tale. Free shall the ship of Thorgils be from toil or harbourage in all ports of our land from henceforward. I will see that it is known."

"That is a good gift, Lord King," said the Norseman, and he thanked Gerent well and heartily, and so went his way back to the guest chambers with a glad heart.

Then Gerent said gravely:

"I suppose that there are men who would call all these things the work of chance or fate. But it is fitting that vengeance on him who wronged you should come from the hand of one whom you have cared for. That has not come by chance; but I think it will be well that it is not known here just at first whose was the hand that slew Morgan."

"For fear of his friends?" asked Owen thoughtfully.

"Ay, for that reason. Overbearing and proud was he, but for all that there are some who thought him the more princely because he was so. And there are few who know that he did indeed try to end my life, for I would not spread abroad the full shame of a prince of our line. Men have thought that I would surely take him into favour again, but that was not possible. Only, I would that he had met a better ending."

The old king sighed, and was silent. Presently Owen said that I must see to the men and horses, and I rose up to leave the chamber, and then the king said:

"We shall see you again at the feast I am making for you all. Then tomorrow you must take back as kingly a letter to Ina as he wrote to me, and so return to Owen for as long as your king will suffer you to bide with us."

So I went to the stables first of all, and there was Thorgils bidding a Welsh groom to get out his horse while he took off the arms that had been lent him from our armoury, for he was but half armed when he came.

"There is no need to do that," I said; "for if Ina arms a man, it is as a gift for service done, if he is not too proud to take it. But are you not biding for the feast?"

"First of all," he said, laughing, "none ever knew a Norseman too proud to accept good arms from a king. Thank Ina for me in all form. And as to my going, seeing that tide waits for no man, if I do not get home shortly I shall lose the tide I want for a bit of a winter voyage I have on hand; wherefore I must go. Farewell, and good luck to you. This business has turned out well, after all, and a great man you will be in this land before long. Don't forget us Norsemen when that comes about, and if ever you need a man at your back, send for me. You might have a worse fence than my axe, and I have a liking for you; farewell again."

I laughed and shook hands with him, and he swung himself into the saddle and rode away.

There was high feasting that night in the guest hall of Norton, as may be supposed. I sat on the left of the king, and Owen on his right, while all the great men who could be summoned in the time were present, and it was plain enough that the homecoming of their lost prince was welcome to every one in all the hall. Not one dark look was there as I scanned the bright company, and presently not one refused to join in the great shout of welcome that rose when Owen pledged them all.

It was a good welcome, and the face of the old king grew bright as he heard it.

Then the harpers sang; I did not think their ways here so pleasant as our own, where the harp goes round the hall, and every man takes his turn to sing, or if he has no turn for song, tells tale or asks riddle that shall please the guests. Certainly, these Welsh folk were readier to talk than we, and maybe the meats were more dainty and the wines finer than ours, and in truth the Welsh mead was good and the Welsh ale mighty, but men seemed to care little for the sport that should come after the meal was over. Yet these harpers sang well, and from them I learnt more about my foster father than he had ever cared to tell me, for they sang of old deeds of his. Doubtless they made the most of them, for it would seem from their songs that he had fought with Cornish giants as an everyday thing, and that he had been the bane of more than one dragon. But one knows how to sift the words of the gleeman's song, and they told me at least that Owen had been a great champion ere he left his home.

Still, I missed the bright fire on the hearth, and the ways of the court were too stately for me here. Men seemed not to like the cheerful noise of my honest house-carles, who jested and laughed as they would have done in the hall of Ina, who loved to see and hear that his men were merry. We should have thought that there was something wrong if there had not been plenty of noise at the end of the long tables below the salt.

Now, I will not say that there was not something very pleasant in sitting here at the side of the king as the most honoured guest next to my foster father, but there was a sadness at the back of it all in the knowledge that it was likely that from henceforth our ways must needs go apart more or less, and that I might see him only from time to time. For I was Ina's man, and a Saxon, and it could not be supposed that I should be welcome here. I knew that I must go back to my place, and he must bide in his that he had found again, and so there was the sorrow of parting to spoil what might else have made me a trifle over proud.

Gerent did not stay long at the feast, nor did the ladies who were present, and Owen and I stayed for but a little while after they had gone. Then we were taken in all state to the room where we should sleep, and so for the first time I was housed within stone walls. There were a sort of wide benches along the walls covered with skins and bright rugs for us to sleep on, but after I had helped Owen to his night gear I took the coverings that were meant for me and set them across the door on the floor and so slept. For I had a fear of treachery and the friends of Morgan.

It was in my mind to talk for a while before rest came, but Owen would not suffer me to do so, saying that it was best to sleep on all the many things that happened before we thought much of what was to be done next. So I wrapt myself in my rugs on the strangely warm floor and went to sleep at once, being, as may be supposed, fairly tired out with the long day and its doings. More than that little space of time it seemed since we left Glastonbury, and even my meeting with Elfrida was like a matter of long ago to me.

There was a bronze lamp burning with some scented oil, hanging from the ceiling, which seemed so low after our open roofs, and we had left it alight, as I thought it better to have even its glimmer than darkness, here in this strange house. And presently I woke with a feeling that this lamp had flared up in some way, shining across my eyes, so that I sat up with a great start, grasping my sword hastily. But the lamp burned quietly, and all that woke me was the light of a square patch of bright moonlight from a high window that was creeping across the broad chest of Owen as he slept, and had come within range of my eyelids, for my face was turned to him. The room was bright with it, and for a little I watched the quiet sleeper, and then I too slept, and woke not again until Owen roused me with the daylight from the same window falling on his face.

"That is where I should have slept," I said, "for it is my place to wake you, father."

He laughed, and said that it was his place in the old days, and there was a sigh at the back of the laugh as he thought of those times, and then we forgot the whole thing. Yet though it seems a little matter in the telling, in no long time I was to mind that waking in a strange way enough, and then I remembered.

We must part presently, as I found, at least for a little while. There was no question but that Owen would stay at the court here, and so Gerent had ready for me a letter which I should carry back to Ina at once. He spoke very kindly to me at that time, giving me a great golden bracelet from his own arm, that I might remember to come back to bide for a time with him ere long. And then we broke our fast, and my men were ready, and I parted from my foster father in the bright morning light that made the white walls of the old palace seem more wonderful to me than ever.

"Farewell, then, for a while," he said to me; "come back as soon as Ina will spare you. There will be peace between him and Gerent now, as I think."

Then came a man in haste from out of the gateway where we stood yet, and he bore a last gift from Gerent to me. It was a beautiful wide-winged falcon from the cliffs of Tintagel in the far west, hooded and with the golden jesses that a king's bird may wear on her talons.

"It is the word of the king," said the falconer, "that a thane should ride with hawk on wrist if he bears a peaceful message. Moreover, there will be full time on the homeward way for a flight or two. Well trained she is, Master, and there is no better passage hawk between here and Land's End."

That was a gift such as any man might be proud of, and I asked Owen to thank the king for me. And so we parted with little sorrow after all, for it was quite likely that I should be back here in a day or two for yet a little while longer with him.

So I and my men were blithe as we rode in the still frosty air across the Quantocks by the way we had come, and by and by, when we gained the wilder crests, I began to look about me for some chance of proving the good hawk that sat waiting my will on my wrist.

Soon I saw that the rattle and noise of men and horses spoiled a good chance or two for me, for the black game fled to cover, and once a roe sprang from its resting in the bushes by the side of the track and was gone before I could unhood the bird.

"Ho, Wulf!" I cried to one of the men who was wont to act as forester when Ina hunted, "let us ride aside for a space, and then we will see what sort of training a Welshman can give a hawk."

So we put spurs to our horses and went on until they were a mile behind us, and then we were on a ridge of hill whence a long wooded combe sank northward to the dense forest land at the foot of the hills, and there we rode slowly, questing for what might give us a fair flight. Bustard there were on these hills, and herons also, for below me I could see the bare branches of the tree tops on which the broad-winged birds light at nesting time, twigless and skeleton-like. For a while we saw nothing, however, and so rode wide of the track, across the heather, until we found the woodland before us, and had to make our way back to the road, which passed through it. But before we came in sight of the road, from almost under my feet, a hare bolted from a clump of long grass, and made for the coverts. I cast off the hawk and shouted, but we were too near the underwood, and it seemed that the hare would win to cover in time to save herself.

Yet in a moment the hare was back again out of the cover, and running along its edge in the open as though she had met with somewhat that she feared even more than the winged terror which she had so nearly baffled. And that was strange, for it is hard to get a hare to stir from her seat if there is a hawk overhead, so that sometimes men have even picked up the timid beast from her place.

"There is a fox in the underwood, and she has seen him," I cried, and then forgot all about the strangeness of the matter in watching the stoop of the ready hawk, who waited only for one more chance.

Not far did the hare win this time. The hawk swooped and took her close to the edge of the wood, and I rode quickly to take the bird again and give her her share of the quarry. And then, while my eyes were fixed on her, and I was just about to dismount, I was aware of something like a streak of light that flew from the underwood toward me, and suddenly my horse reared wildly, and fell back on me, pinning me to the ground.

At the same moment I heard Wulf roaring somewhat, and then he was between me and the cover, and I saw him, through the dazedness of my eyes with the fall, dismount and unsling his shield from his back, with his eyes ever on the wood. Then an arrow struck the ground close to me, and I heard another smite Wulf's shield with the clap that no warrior can mistake. At that his steed took fright and left us.

"Get my horn and wind it," I said, struggling to get free from the horse. It was no mean bowman who had sent that first arrow, for the poor beast never moved after it fell, and had spent its last strength in rearing.

"That is crushed flat, Master," Wulf said between his teeth, and he tried to lift the weight that was on me.

Then the arrows came thickly again, and he crouched over me with the shield, behind the horse. It was lucky that I was almost covered by it as I lay, for it was between me and the wood. I writhed and struggled and at last I was free again, and Wulf helped me to get my own shield from my back as I rose, and then we stood back to back and looked for our foes.

"Morgan's people, I suppose," I said. "We should not have left the men, for I knew that he was leagued with Quantock outlaws."

"A nidring set, too," said Wulf savagely. "Can't they show themselves?"

As if the men had heard him, they came from the cover even as he spoke. There were more than I could count after a few moments, for they poured out in twos and threes from all along the edge of the wood, and came cautiously toward us, in such wise as to surround us. Wild looking men they were, with never a helm or mail shirt among them, but they were all well armed enough with bow and spear and seax, and more than one had swords.

Then I looked round to see if I could see my men coming, and my heart sank. We were hidden from the road by the crest of the hill, and I knew that the flight of the hawk had led us some way from it. We could not be less than a full mile from them at the rate we had ridden, and I did not think it likely that they had hurried after us, for they would not spoil sport.

Now the men were round us in a ring that was closing quickly, and Wulf and I had our swords out and were back to back facing them. Not a word had been said on either side, and I was not going to begin to talk to outlaws. If they had anything to say they might say it. But they had not, and I knew that they would make a rush on us directly.

One who seemed to be the leader whistled sharply, and the rush came with a wild howl and flight of ill-aimed spears that were of no harm. The circle was too close for a fair throw at us, lest the weapon should go too far. I had time to catch one as it passed me, and send it back with the Wessex war shout, and there was one man less against us.

I think that I cut down one or two after that, and then I felt Wulf reel and prop himself against me. Then I had a score of men crowding on me, and they clogged my sword arm and gripped my shield and tore it aside, and then from behind or at the side one smote me on the head with a club or a stone hammer, and I went down. I heard one cry that I was not to be slain, as I fell.

Then Wulf stood over me for a little while and fought all that crowd, until he was on his knees at my side, and my senses were coming back to me. Then he fell over me, and the men threw themselves on me and pinioned me and thrust something into my mouth and then bound me.

I knew that Wulf was slain at that time, and that he had given his life for me. That was what he would have wished to do, but in my heart there grew a wild rage with these men and with myself for my carelessness that had led us into their hands.

Now they dragged me into the cover, and thither also they brought Wulf and the fallen men, and for a little while all sat silent, and soon I knew what they were waiting for. I heard the voices of my men and the very click and rattle of their arms as they trotted slowly through the wood along the road, and I tried to shout to them, but the gag would not let me. So their sounds died away beyond the hill, and after them crept some of the foe, to see that they did not halt or turn back, as one may suppose. I thought how that they had at least three miles to ride before they could come to any place whence they could see that I and Wulf were not before them, and then, when they missed us, how were they to begin to seek us?

I suppose that my wits were sharpened with my danger, for I saw one thing that might help them even while I was thinking this. My hawk had gorged herself with her prey when the fight had turned aside from her, and so she was sitting sleepily and contented on the high bough of one of the trees that stood at the wood's edge. And she still had her jesses on, so that my men would know her if they caught sight of her by any chance.

Now the men who had me, being sure that all fear was past, began to talk of what was to be done next, and they spoke in Welsh, plainly thinking that I could not understand them. There were three or four who seemed to take the lead under the one who had given the signal for attack, and the rest gathered round them.

At first they were for killing me offhand as it seemed, but the leader would not hear of that.

"Search him first, and let us see who he is," he said. "We may have caught the wrong man, after all."

So they came to me and searched my pouch and thrust their grimy hands into the front of my byrnie, and there they found the king's letter, which they seized with a shout of delight. Then they took my arms, wondering at the sword with its wondrous hilt. Only my ring mail byrnie they could not take from me, as they feared to untie my arms.

"Not much would I give for your life if this warrior got loose," said one of them to that one who had the letter. "See how he glares at you."

And true enough that was, moreover. I should surely have gone berserk, like the men Thorgils told me of as we rode yesterday, had I been able to get free for a moment.

They took my belongings to the leaders, and they asked for some one who could read the letter, and there was none, even as I had expected, so that I was glad.

"It does not matter much," the leader said; "doubtless it has a deal of talk in it which would mean nought to us. We will have it read the next time one of us goes to the church," and with that he grinned, and the others laughed as at a good jest. "Let me look at the sword he wore."

He looked and his eyes grew wide, and then he whistled a little to himself. The others asked him what was amiss.

"If we have got Owen's son, we have taken Ina's own sword as well," he said. "Many a time have I seen the king wear it before the law got the best of me. It is not to be mistaken. Now, if we are not careful we have a hornets' nest on us in good truth. Ina does not give swords like this to men he cares nought for, and there will be hue and cry enough after him, and that from Saxon and Welsh alike."

"Kill him and have done. That is what we meant to do when we laid up for him."

So said many growling voices, and I certainly thought that the end was very near.

"Ay, and have ourselves hung in a row that will reach from here to the bridge," the leader said coolly. "Mind you this, that with the Welsh up against us we cannot get to Exmoor, and with the Saxons out also we cannot win to the Mendips, as we have done before now."

"There is the fen."

"And all the fenmen Owen's own men. Little safety is there in that."

"But he slew Morgan, as they say."

"Worse luck for Morgan therefore. What is that to you and me, when one comes to think of it?"

Now I began to understand the matter more or less. It seemed to me that these were Morgan's outlaws, and that somehow they had heard all the story. No doubt that was easy enough, for it would be all over Norton before the night was very old after our coming. And these outlaws have friends everywhere. So they had laid up for me, and now the leader was frightened, as it would seem, or else he had some other plan in his head. It did not seem that he had wished me to be slain, from the first, if it could be helped. Maybe the others had forced him to waylay me. A leader of outlaws has little hold on his men.

"Let him swear to say nought of us, and let him go then," one of the other leaders said in a surly way.

Then the chief got up and laughed at them all.

"There are six of us slain and a dozen with wounds, and we will make him pay for that and for Morgan as well before we have done with him. Now we must not bide here, or we shall have his men back on us, seeking him. Let us get away, and I will think of somewhat as we go. There is profit to be made out of this business, if I am not mistaken."

Then they brought my man's horse, which they had caught, and set me on it, making my feet fast under the girth. The men who had fallen they hid in the bushes, and it troubled me more than aught to think that Wulf should lie among them. My horse they dragged into a hollow, and piled snow over him. Then they went swiftly down the hillside into the deep combe, leaving only the trampled and reddened snow to tell that there had been a fight.

I had a hope for a little while that the track they left would be enough for my men to follow if they hit on it, but there was little snow lying in the sheltered woodlands, and there the track was lost. And these men scattered presently in all directions, so that trace of them was none. Only the leader and some dozen men stayed with me.

So they took me for many a long mile, always going seaward, until we were in a deep valley that bent round among the hills until its head was lost in their folds, and there was some sort of a camp of these outlaws sheltered from any wind that ever blew, and with a clear brook close at hand. All round on the hillsides was the forest, but there was one landmark that I knew.

High over the valley's head rose a great hill, and on that was an ancient camp. It was what they call the "Dinas," the refuge camp of the Quantock side, which one can see from Glastonbury and all the Mendips.

Here they took me from the horse and bound my feet afresh, and took the gag from my mouth and set me against a tree, and so waited until the band had gathered once more, lighting a great fire meanwhile. Glad enough was I of its warmth, for it is cold work riding bound through the frost.

When that was done the leader bade some of those with him fetch the goods to this place, and catch some ponies ready against the journey. I could not tell what this might mean, but I thought that they had no intention of biding here, and I was sorry in a dull way. It had yet been a hope that they might be tracked by my men from the place of the fight.

After these men had gone hillward into the forest, others kept coming in from one way or another until almost all seemed to have returned.

One by one as these gathered, they came and looked at me, and laughed, making rough jests at me, which I heeded not at all, if they made my blood boil now and then. Once, indeed, their leader shouted roughly to them to forbear, when some evil words came with a hoarse gust of laughter to his ears, and they said under their breath, chuckling as at a new jest:

"Evan has a mind to tell Tregoz that he treated the Saxon well," and so left me. It seemed to me that I had heard that name at Norton.

When the best part of the band had gathered again they lit another fire fifty yards from me, and round it they talked and wrangled for a good half hour. It was plain that they were speaking about me and my fate, but I could hear little of what they said.

The leader took not much part in the talk at first, but let the rest have their say. And when they had talked themselves out, as it were, he told them his plans. I could not hear them, but the rest listened attentively enough, and at the end of his speech seemed to agree, for they laughed and shouted and made not much comment.

Then the leaders got up and came and looked at me.

"Tell him what we are going to do with him, Evan," one said to the chief.

So Evan spoke in the worst Saxon I had ever heard, and I thought that it fitted his face well.

"No good glaring in that wise," he said; "if you are quiet no harm will come to you. We are going to hold you as a hostage until your Saxon master or your British father pay ransom for you, and inlaw us again. That last is a notion of my own, for I am by way of being an honest man. The rest do not care for anything but the money we shall get for you from one side or the other, or maybe from both. By and by, when we have you in a safe place, you shall write a letter for us to use, and I will have you speak well of me in it, so that it shall be plain that you owe your life to me, and then I shall be safe. That is a matter between you and me, however. None of these knaves ken a word of Saxon."

I suppose that I showed pretty plainly what I thought of this sort of treachery to his comrades, for one of the others laughed at me, and said:

"Speak him fair, Evan, speak him fair, else we shall have trouble with him."

"I am just threatening him now," the villain said in Welsh—"after that is time to give him a chance to behave himself," and then he went on to me in Saxon: "Now, if you will give your word to keep quiet and go with me as a friend I will trust you, but if not—well, we must take you as we can. How do you prefer to go?"

He waited for an answer, but I gave him none. I would not even seem to treat with them.

"Don't say that I did not give you a chance," he said; "but if you will go as a captive, that is your own fault."

And as I said nothing he turned away, and said to the rest:

"We shall have to bind him. He will not go quietly."

"How shall we get him on board as a captive?" one asked.

"That would be foolishness," Evan said; "the next thing would be that every one would know who the captive that was taken out of Watchet was. I have a better plan than that. We will tie him up like a sorely wounded man, and so get him shipped carefully and quietly with no questions asked."

"Well, then, there is no time to lose. We must be at the harbour in four hours' time at the latest. Tide will serve shortly after that," one of the others said. "What about the sword?—shall we sell it to the Norsemen?"

"What! and so tell all the countryside what we have been doing?—it is too well known a weapon. No, put it into one of the bales of goods, and I can sell it safely to some prince on the other side. No man dare wear it on this, but they will not know it there, or will not care if they do. Now get a litter made, and bring me some bandages."

It seemed to me to be plain that they would try to get me across the channel into Wales, or maybe Ireland, and my heart sank. But after all, Owen would gladly pay ransom for me, and that was the one hope I had. And then I wondered what vessel they had ready, and all of a sudden I minded that Thorgils had spoken of a winter voyage that he was going to take on this tide, and my heart leapt. It was likely that these men were going to sail with him, so I might have a chance of swift rescue.

Now Evan went to work on me with the help of one of his men, who seemed to know something of leech craft.

"This," said Evan, "is a poor friend of mine who has met with a bad fall from his horse. His thigh is broken and his shoulder is out. Also his jaw is broken, because the horse kicked him as he lay. For the same reason he is stunned, and cannot move much. It is a bad case altogether," and he grinned with glee at his own pleasantry.

Then they fitted a long splint to my right leg from hip to ankle, so that I was helpless as a babe in its swaddlings, and made fast the other leg to that. They did not do more than loosen the cords that bound me just enough to suffer them to pass the bandages round until the splint was on, and the other men stood in a ring and gibed at me all the time. After that they bandaged my right arm across my chest as if for a slipped shoulder, but under the bandages were cords that pinioned my elbows to one another across my back, so that I could only move my left forearm. Evan said that he would tie that also if need was, but it might pass now. I could not reach my mouth with this free hand, if I did try to take out a gag.

Next they bandaged my head and chin carefully, so that only my eyes were to be seen. I suppose that I might be thankful that they left my mouth uncovered more or less. And Evan said that he would gag me by and by.

"No need to discomfort him more than this now," he added. "Maybe he will be ready to promise silence when he has gone some time in this rig."

By this time some had caught half a dozen hill ponies, and on them they loaded several bales of goods, which I thought looked like those of some robbed chapman, and I have reason to think that they were such. They opened one of these, and in it they stowed my sword and helm and the great gold ring that Gerent gave me. There was some argument about this, but the leader said that it was better to sell it for silver coin which they could use anywhere.

Now Evan and two others dressed themselves afresh, and washed in the brook. One would have taken them for decent traders when that was done, for they were soberly clad in good blue cloth jerkins, with clean white hose, and red garterings not too new. Good cloaks they had also, and short seaxes in their belts. Only Evan had a short Welsh sword, and the peace strings of that were tied round the hilt. I wondered where the bodies of the honest men they had taken these things from were hidden in the wild hills.

Half a dozen of the best clad of the other men took boar spears, and so they were ready for a start, for all the world like the chapmen they pretended to be. They put me into the litter they had ready then, and four of the men were told off to bear me, grumbling. It was only a length of sacking made fast to two stout poles, and when they had hoisted me to their shoulders a blanket was thrown over me, and a roll of cloth from one of the bales set under my head, so that I might seem to be in comfort at least.

Then the band set out, and we went across the hills seaward and to the west until we saw Watchet below us. There was a road somewhere close at hand, as I gathered, for we stopped, and some of the rabble crept onward to the crest of the hill and spied to see if it was clear. It was so, and here all the band left us, and only Evan and the other two seeming merchants went on with their followers, who bore me and led the laden ponies. The road had no travellers on it, as far as I could see, nor did we meet with a soul until we were close into the little town that the Norsemen had made for themselves at the mouth of a small river that runs between hills to the sea.

Maybe there were two score houses in the place, wooden like ours, but with strange carvings on the gable ends. And for fear, no doubt, of the British, they had set a strong stockade all round the place in a half circle from the stream to the harbour. There were several long sheds for their ships at the edge of the water, and a row of boats were lying on a sort of green round which the houses stood with their ends and backs and fronts giving on it, as each man had chosen to set his place.



CHAPTER VI. HOW OSWALD HAD AN UNEASY VOYAGE AND A PERILOUS LANDING AT ITS END.

I thought that Evan had forgotten to gag me, but before we went to the gate of the stockade he came and did it well. I could not see a soul near but my captors, and it would have been little or no good to shout. So I bore it as well as I might, being helpless. Then, within arrow shot of the gate, one of the men blew a harsh horn, and we waited for a moment until a man, armed with an axe and sword, lounged through the stockade and looked at us, and so made a gesture that bid us enter, and went his way within. I hope that I may never feel so helpless again as I did at the time when I passed this man, who stared at me in silence, unable to call to him for help.

Then we crossed the green without any one paying much heed to us, though I saw the women at the doors pitying me, and so we came to the wharf, alongside which a ship was lying. There were several men at work on her decks, and it was plain that she was to sail on this tide, for her red-and-brown striped sail was ready for hoisting, and there was nothing left alongside to be stowed. She was not yet afloat however, though the tide was fast rising.

Evan hailed one of the men, and he came ashore to him. The bearers set down my litter and waited.

"Where is the shipmaster?" Evan asked.

The man jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and lifted his voice and shouted "Ho Thorgils, here is the Welsh chapman."

I saw the head of my friend rise from under the gunwale amidships, and when he saw who was waiting he also came ashore. Evan met him at the gangway.