id was
told and retold. Then at last one fetched a little gilded harp, and
Kynan ap Huwal, the raider of cattle, set the whole story into
song, and did it well and sweetly.

After that was done came a white-haired priest, and we knelt for
the vespers; and then the watch was set under the moonlight, and
Erling and I stood in the gateway of the fort, and looked out on
the quiet land below us. It was no very great hill, but the place
was strong. How old it may be I cannot say, perhaps no man knows;
but since Offa drove the Welsh to the Wye it had been set in order,
with a stockade halfway down the steep earthwork round the hill
crest, so that men on its top could use their weapons on those who
were trying to scale it. The dry ditch was deep and steep sided,
and, so far as I could see in the moonlight, on this side at least
it would need a strong force to take it by storm, were it fairly
manned by say two hundred men. The gate had been made afresh of
heavy timber, narrow, and flanked on either side by overhanging
mounds, whence men could rain javelins on those who tried to force
it; and outside the gate were slight fences, which bent in wide
half circles, inside which the cattle we had driven in were penned.
Peaceful enough it all was, and the stillness of this hilltop after
the long unrest seemed as of a very haven after storm.

Presently Jefan and his brother came back after posting their men,
and then for half an hour I sat with Sighard and Hilda in the hut.
The thane had indeed had a narrow escape from the burning hall, and
had been left for dead by his pursuers. However, he had been but
stunned by the blow which felled him from his horse, and presently
recovering, had managed to get across the river and to some
Welshman's hut, whence Jefan took him.

As for those who had burnt the hall, he was sure that they were led
by Gymbert, and that they were no housecarls of Offa's. They had
slain Witred and another of the Mercian thanes who had fled with
him.

Then I asked him of himself and of his hurt.

"I am old to have the senses knocked out of me, and a blow that you
might think little of is enough to keep me quiet for a time.
However, that is all. Now that Hilda and you are safe, and the king
is found and honoured, I have naught to do but to get well. Trouble
not for me."

It seemed to me that there was no need for me to trouble about
aught either, and out in the open air, by one of the fires, I slept
till the da