“He calls himself Curan, lord.”

“Calls himself.  Well, it is likely that he knows his own name best.  Is he Welsh, therefore?”

“So I think, lord.”

“You might have been certain by this time, surely.  I like Welshmen about the place, and I was giving you credit for finding me a good one.  Whence comes he?”

Now it was on Berthun’s tongue to say that he thought that Curan came from the marshland, yet clinging to his own thoughts of what he was.  He did not at all believe that he came from that refuge of thralls.  But he must seem certain unless he was to be laughed at again.

So he said, “He comes from the marsh-country.”

“Does he speak Welsh?”

“I have heard him do so to the market people, if he happened to meet a Briton there.”

“Why, then, of course he is Welsh:  and here have I found out in two minutes what you have taken I do not know how long to think about.  Go to, Berthun; you grow slow of mind with good living.”

The king chuckled, and Berthun bowed humbly; but now the steward was determined to say no more than he was obliged in answer to more questions.  Also he began to hope that Alsi would ask nothing about the clothes this man of his wore, else he would be well laughed at for spending his money on a stranger.

But Alsi seemed pleased with himself, or else with what he had heard, and went on.

“Has this Curan friends in the town?”

“None, lord, so far as I know.”

“Let me tell you that you may know a man’s friends by the company he keeps.  With whom does he talk?”

“None come to seek him, lord, except one of the housecarls—­the big man to whom you spoke tonight.  Seldom does he go into the town, and then only the porters seem to know him, for he was among them, as a stranger, when I met him first.”

“A big man will always make an acquaintance with another,” Alsi said, “and the porters are the lowest in the place.  One may be sure that he has left his friends in some starving village in the marsh, and has none here.  That will do, Berthun.  Take care of him, for I may have use for him.  But next time you hire a man, use your wits to learn somewhat of him, if it is too much trouble to ask.”

So Berthun was dismissed, and went out in a bad temper with himself.  Yet he knew that he would have been laughed at for a fool if he had said that he thought Curan more than he seemed.

Now Alsi was alone, and he fell to thought again.  By-and-by it was plain to be understood what his thoughts had been, and they were bad.  And after he had slept on them they were no better, seeing what came of them.  But I think that he was pleased to find that Havelok was, as he thought, a Welsh marshman, and well-nigh friendless, for so he would be the more ready to do what he was bidden; though, indeed, there seemed little doubt that the plan Alsi made for himself would find no stumbling block in Curan, if it might meet with a check elsewhere.  That, however, was to be seen.