“Look at me; know you who I am?” I said to the man, who had cast himself down on the grass, panting again.

“No—­nor care,” he said, glancing at me sharply.  “On, and tarry not.”

“I am an outlaw,” I said simply.

“Armed?” he said, with a laugh.  “Outlaw in truth you will be, an you speed not.”

“I am Heregar,” I said again.

“Curse you!” said the man; “go on, and prate not.  If you were Ealhstan himself, with his forked hat on, you must go.”

“Heregar—­my master’s friend,” cried one of the two thralls, “if it be true you are outlawed, as I heard yesterday, go and win yourself inlawed again by this.”

Then I turned, and wasted no more time, running swiftly down the hill and away towards the spot where my enemy lay at Stert, and that honest thrall of my friend, the slain franklin’s, shouted after me for good speed.

“Well,” I thought, as I went on at a loping pace, “I can prove my loyalty maybe—­but I have to bear this into the wolf’s den—­and much the proof will serve me!”

Then I thought that presently I would feign lameness, and send on some other.  And so I ran on.

I struck a path soon, and kept it, knowing that, if one met and recognized me, the token I bore was pass enough—­moreover, none might harm me, if they would, so that I was doing no wrong in being turned back, as it were, by emergency, from leaving the kingdom.  Now, as I trotted swiftly along the track, there lay in my way what I thought was a stone till I neared it.  Then I saw that it was a bag, and so picked it up, hardly pausing, shaking it as I did so.

It was full of money!  Doubtless some one of the fugitives dropped it last night as they went in haste, hardly knowing they had it, perhaps.  Well, better with me than with the Danes, I thought, and so bestowed the bag inside my mail shirt, and thanked the man who sent me on this errand.  For now I felt as if free once more; for with sword and mail and money what more does man need?

When next I came to a place that looked out over sea, I could no more spy the ships.  They must have stretched far across to the Welsh coast.  Only the two holms broke the line of water to the north and east up channel.

Then the thought came to me that the Danes were gone, and what use going further with this errand?  But that was not my business; the war arrow must go round, and the bearer must not fail, or else “nidring” [vii] should he be from henceforward.  So I went on.

Now, at last, was I but a mile or two from Stert, and began to wish to meet one to whom to give the arrow—­but saw no man.  I turned aside to a little cluster of thralls’ and churls’ huts I knew.  There were no people there, and one hut was burnt down.  Afterwards I heard that they had been deserted by reason of some pestilence that had been there; but now it seemed like a warning to do the duty that had been thrust on me.