tened and learnt more. So when I needed
them, the words were ready. Now, therefore, both in life and death,
Wulfric, my master, I thank you."

But I was silent, knowing how much greater a part in this I might
have had. For I thought that, but for the need of proving my faith
or denying it, I should have surely been as a heathen among heathen
in those days in Jutland. Yet Beorn asked me to pray for him, and
that I had done, and it had kept me mindful when I had else
forgotten.

So began the work Humbert the Bishop foretold before he died, and
that monk of his who saved his own life at Humbert's bidding for
the work, saw it, and rejoiced.

After this, in a week's time, Cyneward and I took horse and rode
away to London, for the dame's son came back to me, having found
Ingild, bringing me messages from him, and also from Egfrid and
many more. And all was well. At that time I could not reward as I
would those good people who had thus cared for me, but I would send
presents when I might. Yet they said they needed naught from me but
to see me again at some time, which I promised, as well for my own
love of them as for their asking.

We went unharmed and unquestioned, for all the land was at peace.
Truly there were new-made huts where farmsteads had been, and at
the town gates were Danish axemen instead of our spearmen as of
old. Yet already in the hayfields Dane and Anglian wrought
together, and the townsmen stood on Colchester Hill beside the
Danish warriors, listening while gleeman and scald sang in rivalry
to please both.

Little of change was there in London town, save again the
scarlet-cloaked Danish guards and watchmen. Few enough of these
there were, and indeed the host left but small parties in the towns
behind them in our land. Yet those few could hold the country in
peace, because men knew that at their back was the might of
Ingvar's awful host, which came on a land unawares, marching more
swiftly than rumour could fly before it, so that not one might know
where the next blow would fall until suddenly the war beacons of
flaming villages flared up, and it was too late to do aught but
fly.

Yet in our land was none to fight for. No king had we to follow the
martyr. Ethelred had left us alone, and already in the hearts of
men grew up the thought that the strong hand of the Dane meant
peace.

In the house of good old Ingild, my second father, as he would have
me hold him, was rest at last. And there I found a