t there was a warm pressure on my hand for myself alone
that bided with me. And the prioress thanked us for our care, not
knowing me in the half light, and in mail, and so were we left in the
courtyard, where an old lay brother, brought from the near monastery,
showed us the stabling and provender for our horses, and the loft where
the men should sleep, outside the walls of the inclosed building.

Here Wulfhere bade the men and boys remain, tending their horses until
he should return, or until orders came from their master himself or from
the lady Alswythe; for they were thralls, and not men who should be with
the levy.

Then he and I went out into the roadway and walked away until we were
alone.

"What now?" I asked.

"I must join my master, telling him what I have done, and that the lady
is safe. So shall I march with the rest most likely. What shall I say of
your part in this?"

"Nought," I answered.

"Maybe that is best--just now," he agreed.

We had come to the town streets now, and they seemed empty. The light
was strong enough by this time, and there came a sound of shouting from
the place of the market cross, and then we heard the bray of war horns,
and Wulfhere quickened his pace, saying that the men were mustering, or
maybe on the march.

Then I longed to go with him, but that might not be. So I left him at
last, saying that I should surely join in the fight.

I had not gone six paces from him when he called me, and I could see
that he looked anxious.

"Master," he said, "this is going to be a doubtful fight as it seems to
me. Yon Danes know that the country is raised, but yet they have come
back, and they mean to fight. Now our levy is raw, and has no
discipline, and I doubt it will be as it was at Charnmouth. If that is
so, Bridgwater will be no safe place for the lady Alswythe. She must be
got hence with all speed."

"Shall you not return and hide with her?" I asked.

"That is as the master bids," said he, and then he added, looking at me
doubtfully, "I would you were not so bent on this fight."

Then was I torn two ways--by my longing to strike a blow for Wessex,
and by my love for my Alswythe and care for her safety. And I knew not
what to say. Wulfhere understood my silence, and then decided for me.

"You have hearkened to me before, master, and now I will speak again.
Get you to your place of last night on Combwich Hill, and there look on
the fight; or, if it be nearer this, find such