My billhook, covered with new rust from the dew, lay where I had thrown it in stripping off my own garments to arm myself; but of the man I had slain only scattered bones were left.  The wolves had devoured him.

When I saw that, I thought that this dead man might as well pass for myself—­Heregar, the outlaw.  So I examined billhook and quarterstaff, and at last said I knew them.  They had been given to one Heregar, who had been outlawed and driven from the Moot even as I stood to watch the gathering as I passed by.

“Then his outlawry has ended here,” said the collier.  “The wolves have devoured him.”

“Just as well,” I said carelessly.  “Shall you take his staff and bill?  They are good enough.”

“Not I,” said the man.  “It is ill meddling with strange men’s weapons, most of all an outlaw’s.”

“Mayhap you are wise,” I said, and, casting down the things alongside the bones, went on.

Now I had looked all round, and saw that my old garments were gone, so that the man I had let go had at all events started away with them.  But now I knew that the news of my death would soon spread, hard on the publishing of the sentence of outlawry, for the doings of an outlaw are of the first interest to those among whom he may wander.  As it was, indeed, to my guide, who spoke so much thereof that I knew he would be full of it, and tell it to all whom he met.  And when he told me he should go back through the town I was glad, for so Matelgar would have news of the same, confirming the tale of his man, though not accounting for his captain.  Whereby he would be puzzled, and his life would be none the easier, for I knew he would dread my vengeance, though it might be hard for me to compass.

At last we crossed the river, and went a little way together into the woods beyond, till we came to the road which should lead the collier back to Bridgwater town.  And there I made him give me directions for crossing the Quantocks, as though I would go by Triscombe—­which I feigned to know not, save by name given for my guidance on my way.

I looked for him to ask reward, but he did not, and what the hermit had told him I could not say, unless he had promised him reward on his return.  He made a low salutation before me, cap in hand, and I thanked him for his pains, saying that I would not forget him, as I was sure he would not forget “Grendel”.  And so we laughed, and he went away pleased enough, giving me the wallet of food.

Then was I left alone in the woodlands that had been mine to hunt through, for, holding our land from the king himself, I had many rights that stretched far and wide, which doubtless that Matelgar coveted for himself, and would now enjoy.  And hard it was, and bitter exceedingly, not to turn my steps straight through the town, where men had saluted me reverently, to my own hall where it nestles under the great rock that looks out over my low meadows, and away towards Brent across the wide river.  But that might not be.  So I tried to stay myself with the thought of the hermit’s prophecy, and plunging deep into the woods, crossed far back of my own place, until I could circle round towards Matelgar’s hall.