ning Weymouth in my
nostrils, and the wild rowing song came back to me. I minded the
man well, and it went to my heart to see the free Danish warrior
tied here at the mercy of this evil-eyed slaver, for I knew that he
was as free born as myself.

I turned sharply on the merchant, and asked him how it came about
that he had this man for sale.

"He is a freeman, and I know him," I said.

Nevertheless it came into my mind that he had been taken prisoner
at the time of some such landing as that wherein I had first seen
him.

"He is a shipwrecked foreigner, lord," was the answer; "a
masterless man whom I bought from the Lindsey thane on whose manor
shore he was stranded."

But it seemed to me that there was a look of fear in the eyes of
this slave trader. It came when I, whom he had taken for a Frank
noble from my dress, spoke to him in good Wessex. Whereby I had a
shrewd guess that all was not so fair and lawful as he would make
it seem.

"He lies," growled the Dane. "Some thrall picked me up, and this
man took me from him. He was on the prowl for castaways on the morn
of the storm. Nigh dead I was, or would have fought."

He spoke low and quickly, and the trader seemed not to understand
his Danish. But I saw that he spoke the truth.

Now I think that if this shipmate of mine had been fairly taken
captive as he raided, I should have let him take the reward of his
work. But this chance was a different matter.

"Show me the receipt for payment to that thane of whom you speak,"
I said. "If you can, well and good; if not, then we will go to the
sheriff and see this matter righted. I know the man as a freeman."

"Ay, in his own land," said the trader, beginning to bluster. "What
is that to me? Here in England he is masterless--"

"No," said the Dane; "this is my master. Heard you not how I owned
to a black eye from him?"

And he looked at me in a half proud way which told me how the bonds
had broken him, and yet how they had not yet made him shameless if
he must beg me for help to freedom.

Then said Werbode quietly:

"Where is that receipt? I suppose that if you paid for his man, my
friend has to repay you for ransoming him. It is a simple matter."

"I do not carry it with me, stranger. You know not this land of
ours. It is at my inn. I can show it, of course."

"Well, then," said I, "I will take my man and answer for him. Bring
the writing to the house of the sheriff, where I lodge, and what is
there set