ere the Welsh saved him, for hatred of Offa and pity for the
betrayed Anglian king. He is safe, if a little hurt."

Now the horse of Erling reared suddenly, and I looked up. It was
still in a moment, and he spoke to it without heeding me. But as
soon as he caught my eye when I first turned, he set his hand
carelessly across his lips, and I knew what he meant. I had better
say no more of where Sighard was or how I hoped to see him.

So I said what I had to tell him of the finding of the king, and
how we had come to tell Offa thereof; and as he heard, Selred the
chaplain knelt there by the roadside and gave thanks openly, with
the tears of joy in his eyes. The rough housecarls heard also, and
there went a word or two among them; and their grim faces
lightened, for one shame, at least, had been taken from the house
of their master.

Now there was a sound as of a woman's weeping from the litter, and
Selred heard it and rose to his feet.

"It is Etheldrida the princess," he whispered to me. "She is flying
to some far nunnery--mayhap to Crowland--that there she may end her
days in what peace she may find. It is well, for here with her
mother is but terror for her."

The archbishop signed to me, and I went to the side of that litter,
unhelming, while Erling took my horse's bridle. There I knelt on
one knee, and waited for what I was to hear. It was a little while
before that came, but the sobs were at length stilled. I heard one
of the ladies, who were those who came from East Anglia, say to the
other that it was good that she had wept at last.

And presently from behind the curtains of the litter the princess
spoke to me, very low, and I do not think any other heard.

"Good friend of him whom I loved, I thank you for your loyalty to
him. The archbishop has told me, and you have given me back a
little of my trust in men. I had deemed that all were false for
aye, but for you, I think. Now I go hence, and beyond the walls of
some nunnery I shall never pass, and there I will pray for you
also. And for you there shall be happy days to come, in the meed of
utmost loyalty."

I could not answer her, and still I knelt, for there was somewhat
needed to come ere I could part from her without a word. But before
I could frame aught she set her hand through the curtains, and in
it was somewhat small, as it were a silken case cunningly woven
round a little jewel, perchance.

"There was none whom I would ask to do what I longed f