“I was Grendel, Dudda,” said I; “but you must have a sorely evil conscience to be so easily frighted.”

“Nay, master; but from week to week I see none, least of all at midnight, and mail-clad men never at all.  I think I am the only man who fears not this marsh and what may haunt it.”

“That you may never boast again,” said I; “for scared you were, and that badly!”

“It is between you and me, master,” said he, with much cunning in his look; “as I pray the matter of what was in the cauldron may be also—­”

“Well, as for that,” I answered, “I ate it, and was glad of it, so I will not inquire how it came there.”

But I was glad to have this secret as a sort of hold over this man, for thralls are not to be trusted far, nor was I in a mood to put much faith in any.

After that we ate in silence, and when we had finished, he put a loaf and a half cheese into a wallet, and took a staff, and asked me to command him.  I knew not what the hermit had told him, so asked how much he had learned of my errand.

“That you are on king’s business, master, and in haste.  Moreover that your errand is secret, so that you would not be seen in town or village on your way.”

“That is right,” I said, thanking in my mind the good hermit, whose ready wit had made things so easy for me; moreover it was truthful enough, for outlawry is king’s business in all earnest, though not the honour this poor thrall doubtless thought was put on me.

Then I told him that I need ask him but to guide me beyond Parret river, on this side of Bridgwater, for after that the long line of the Quantocks would guide me well enough.  It was all I needed, for once out of this fenland I knew the country well—­aye, every furlong of it—­ but I was willing enough to let him guide me through land I knew, that if ever he were questioned—­as he might well be when my outlawry was known—­his tale of my little knowledge of the country would make men think me some stranger, and so no blame would come on him for harbouring me.

So we started in the bright early morning, and he guided me well.  There is little to say of that journey, but finding from the man’s talk that the Moot rose not until the next day, I thought, with a lifting of my heart, how Matelgar would likely enough be yet there, and that I might almost in safety, unless he had sent word back concerning me to his men, go and try to gain speech of Alswythe.

Now it chanced presently that, looking about me, I seemed to know the lie of a woodland through which we passed, and in a little was sure we were in that glade where I fought my fight.  And next, I saw my quarterstaff still resting against the tree where I had left it.  The collier saw it too, and said that some forester was doubtless resting close by, seeming uneasy about the same.  But I said that no question should be made of his presence in the wood, if it were so, and we came up to it.  Then he started, and cried to me to look around.