midland forests everywhere, as men told me.

Now at this last gathering I did not see Gymbert. I thought he had
most likely gone homeward, either on business or else because he
would fain hear no more of what he had done in the way of bad
woodcraft. Sighard said plainly that it was just as well that he
had gone, or his clumsiness would have been spoken of pretty
plainly. But all those to whom he did mention it, and they were
many, seemed hardly able to understand it, for the marshal's skill
was well known.

I suppose it was a matter of two hours before sunset when we
started for the palace from where we ended the drive, with an
hour's ride before us. We straggled back somewhat, for the kings
rode on together, and men followed as they listed. So it came to
pass that before long Erling and I were together and almost alone;
out of earshot from any one else, at all events, for Sighard was
behind us with one or two more of our own party, and the Mercians
whom we followed were ahead.

"What have you done to offend this Gymbert?" asked Erling, of a
sudden.

"Naught that I ken," I answered. "We had a talk last evening on the
rampart, but it was of no account. Why?"

"Because that was his arrow which so nearly struck you, first; and
then, if ever a man tried to spear another by a seeming accident,
he tried to end you when the boar turned to bay."

"His arrow? How do you know that?"

"Easily enough. When he fell yonder, those he had left fell out of
his quiver. They are easily to be known, and they were the same as
that I showed you--peacock-feathered with a bone nock, and tied
with gold and silver thread twisted curiously."

"A man does not shoot another with an arrow of his own known
pattern if he means it" I said.

"You hear what they say of the skill of Gymbert? All the more
reason, if his arrow in you were known, that men would say that of
course it was mischance, and pity him more than you. Moreover, that
is the word which would go back to Carl, whom they deem your master
yet. Offa would fain stand well with him."

There was truth in this, and I knew it; and yet I could hardly
believe such a tale of treachery to an unoffending stranger as this
would tell. Then I minded how Erling had spoken to him in Welsh,
and a half thought crossed my mind that he bore ill will for that.
But in that case Erling was the man who had offended by plain
speech on a matter of which every one knew. So I did not recall
this to my