"Thank your prince from me," I answered, after a moment's thought, in which it came to me that no offer of friendship was to be scorned, "and tell him that if need is I will not forget. Tell him also that, thanks to him, the lady is safe and well, and that I have no fear at present."

"That, said Jefan, is what a thane would answer," said the man.

"Whereon I was to tell you that yonder evil queen was to be feared the most when she seemed to be the least dangerous. He wits well that she is shut up."

Then it seemed plain that the Welsh prince had spies pretty nearly inside the palace; which is not at all unlikely. However, I said nothing of that, and thanked the man again, looking to see him leave me. The archbishop had ridden on with the rest, for I went slowly, to talk to the Welshman. Still the man did not go, and he had more to say.

"Also I was to tell you that he had a chief of your folk in his hands. But that he deems that he belongs to East Anglia, he would have set him in chains. He is hurt, and is in our camp, free, save for his promise not to escape. His name is Sighard."

"Sighard?" I said. "How came he in your hands?"

"He came over the border, lord, and we had him straightway," said the man simply. "Methinks there were men after him."

"Where is he?" said I, anxiously enough. "He can pay ransom."

"He is ill," said the man; "he cries for his daughter. Jefan thinks that he is that thane whose daughter was in our hands last night with you."

"Ill?" said I; "is he much hurt?"

"There had been a bit of a fight before we took him. One smote him on the helm, and he was stunned. Thereafter he came to himself, and again fell ill. He will mend, for it is naught."

"But where is he?"

"We have many camps, and I cannot tell you. You are a stranger.

But, says Jefan the prince, an you will come to him I am to guide you."

Now I was in doubt indeed, for this was a dangerous errand. The man saw that I hesitated, and smiled at me.

"Wise is our prince," he said. "He knew that you would fear to come, therefore he bade me say that you were to mind that once he had you, and set you free, and that he does not go back on his doings, save he must. He has no enmity for the friends of the slain king, but a great hatred for him who slew him."

"Would he not let Sighard the thane come to Fernlea, where his daughter is?"

"Truly, if you will. But it is safer for you to come to him. There Jefan will have all care for all of you until he may send you home.

It is told him that Quendritha has sworn the death of four men--of the thane who rides the great pied horse, of his housecarl, of Sighard of Anglia, and of Witred of Bradley, who helped the Anglians to escape."

"How knows he all this? It is more than I have heard--if I have guessed some of it."

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Thane," he said, with a sidewise smile, "a man who is thrall to a Mercian may yet be a Briton. The Saxon may make a slave of his body, but his heart will be free."

Now I was the more sure that this Welsh prince had some good source of knowledge of what went on inside the palace, and I thought that mayhap he was right. Across the Welsh border might indeed be the safest place for any man who had brought the wrath of the queen on him. I would go to Sighard, and take Hilda with me. One thing I was fairly glad of, and that was that so far as I knew none in all the court of Offa had heard who my folk in Wess.e.x were, else there might be trouble for them; for Quendritha's daughter was not unlike her mother, if all I heard was true.

"Meet me tonight, then," I said. "I will go to Jefan, and will bring the lady."

"You do well," he answered gravely. "I will meet you somewhere on the westward track, a mile from Fernlea ford. You shall but ride on till I come. You shall choose your own time, for I cannot tell what may stay you. I have naught to do but wait. If you meet other Britons, tell them that you seek the prince, and they will pa.s.s you on. If so be you come not tonight, I will wait for another, and yet another. After that--"

"If we do not come, what then?"

"Doubtless we shall burn Sutton walls. A curse lies thereon now, and it may be that we shall wreak it."

With that he leaped across the brook which ran by the road, and pa.s.sed into shelter. Then I turned to Erling, who waited for me across the road, and asked if he had understood what was said.

"Ay, all," he answered. "It is good enough; otherwise I might have put in a word. This Jefan has the name for an honest man, as I have ever heard."

"The one thing about it that I mislike is that we seem to be running away from hearsay," I said.

"Mighty little hearsay was that which set Sighard flying across the border, I take it," Erling answered. "Seeing that you have no more to keep you here, it is about time we went also. We have foes we cannot see, and are in a land of which we know not a foot. Jefan will help us to ken the foe, and will guide us when we need it."

Now of all things which I had in my mind, the first seemed to me to be that I must ride eastward with Hilda and see the mother of the slain king, to give what account I might of that charge she had laid on me. But if Sighard had been prevented from getting homeward, it was certain that so should I. Wherefore we should not be watched for on any westward road, and that way, at least, was open. Thence we might find our way when the days wore on and Sighard could travel. That remained to be seen; and, take it all round, I was more easy than I had been.

So also seemed the archbishop presently, when I told him the message I had had. And he agreed with us that we might do worse than go to Jefan at once with Hilda; matters being as they were, it was not safe in Mercia.

"He is a good prince and honourable," he said; "and if I say that, I speak of one who is the foe of our folk. He has suffered much from us, and has cause for enmity with Offa--and maybe with Quendritha. I can say plainly now that her restless longing for power has kept our armies busy many a time when they had been better at rest."

He sighed; and then came somewhat which turned our thoughts, and no more was said at the time, either of Quendritha or of my doings.

For now we were in sight of the palace on its little hill, and from its gates came toward us a train of folk, guarded by men of Offa's own housecarls in front and rear, as if those who travelled were no common wayfarers. In the midst of all was a closed horse litter, beside which rode two or three veiled and hooded ladies and a priest. Save the captain of the guards, there was no thane with the party, and but a few pack horses followed them, and I thought it would be some abbess, perhaps, who was leaving the palace.

We drew up on the roadside to let this train pa.s.s, though I suppose that by all right the archbishop might have claimed the crown of the way for himself, had he been other than the humble-minded man that he was. As the leading guards pa.s.sed us they saluted in all due form; and then one of the ladies knew who was here, and bent to the litter, and so turned and spoke to the captain, who straightway called a halt, and came, helm in hand, to the archbishop, praying him to speak with the lady who was in his charge.

Who this was I did not hear, but I saw the face of the good man change, and he hurried to dismount and go to the litter. And thence, after a word or two had pa.s.sed, came the priest I had seen; and when he uncowled I knew him for my friend Selred, and glad I was to see him.

"Why, how goes it, father?" I said, as my hand met his. "You were not in the wood of our tryst, and I feared that you were in trouble."

Very gravely he shook his head, looking sadly at me.

"There is naught but trouble in all this place," he said. "I could not come to you, for the gates were closed early, that Gymbert might be taken. He was not taken. And yet I have heavier trouble to tell you than you can think."

"No, father," I said quickly, seeing that he had learned too little, and doubtless believed Hilda either drowned or else in the hands of Gymbert and his men--whichever tale Quendritha had been told or chose to tell him.

"I was in the wood, and thither came the lady we ken of when she was set forth from the place. I was in time to get her away, and she is safe."

It was wonderful to see the face of the chaplain lighten at this.

"Laus Deo," he said under his breath, and his hand sought mine again and gripped it. "That is a terrible load off my heart," he said. "Yet I have heard that our good Sighard is slain. They have burned the hall of honest Witred over his head, and he is gone, and it was said that Sighard fell there with him."

"It is not half an hour ago that I heard how he fled to the west, where 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.