eard of the fight for the first time."

Howel laughed a little to himself.

"Master Evan must have paid my rascals well to keep up the story of
the sick man to Thorgils, for he said nothing to me of any fight.
Maybe, however, he never spoke to any of them, and it is likely
that they would not say much to him. And now, by the Round Table!
if you are not the mad Norseman they prated of to me when I wanted
to know who slew the two men, and if you are not the sick man that
Nona is so anxious about! Here, she must come and see you!"

With that he got up and went to the door before I could stay him,
and called gaily to the princess, whose horse I could hear stamping
high above us.

"Ho, Nona, here is a friend of yours whom you will be glad to see.
Ask Father Govan to let you come hither, and bid the men take your
horse."

So I must make the best of it, and I will say that I felt foolish
enough. It was in my mind, though, that I owed many thanks to the
princess for all her kind thought for me as sick man. I had already
said as much to Howel. So I began to try to frame some sort of
speech for her. One never remembers how such speeches always fail
at the pinch.

The light footsteps came down the steps in no long time, and then
the princess entered, dressed much as yesterday, with a bright
colour from the wind, and looking round to see the promised friend.

"I have kept you long, daughter," Howel said, taking her hand, "but
I have been hearing good news. Here is Oswald of Wessex, a king's
thane, but more than that to us, for he is the adopted son of your
own godfather, Owen of Cornwall, and he brings the best of tidings
of him."

Now the maiden's face flushed with pleasure, and she held out her
hand to me in frank welcome. Yet I saw a little wondering look on
her face as she let her eyes linger on mine for a moment, and that
puzzled me.

"You are most welcome, Thane," she said. "It is a wonderful thing
that here I should learn that my lost godfather yet lives. You will
come to Pembroke with us, and tell me of him there?"

Then Howel laughed as if he had a jest that would not keep, and he
cried: "Why, Nona, that is a mighty pretty speech, but surely one
asks a sick man of his health first."

She blushed a little, and glanced again at me.

"Surely the thane is not hurt?" she said.

"Yesterday he was, and that sorely. What was it, Thane?--Slipped
shoulder, broken thigh, and broken jaw? All of which a certain
maide