A litter was speedily made; one of the thralls jumped into a willow tree which overhung the stream, and cut down some of the stoutest boughs.  The others wove them with withes into a kind of litter, threw their own upper garments thereon in their love, placed the poor wounded form as tenderly upon it as a mother would have done, and bore him from the field, ever and anon stopping to relieve some other poor wounded sufferer, and to comfort him with the intelligence that similar aid was at hand for all, as the various lights now appearing testified.

For themselves, they felt all other obligation fade before their duty to their young lord.  He was object of their solicitude.

So they bore him easily along, until they reached a stream; there they paused and washed the heated brow, and allowed the parched lips to imbibe, but only slightly, the pure fresh beverage, sweeter far than the stimulant the good monk had poured down his throat on the field.  Then they arranged his dress—­bound up his wounds, for the Benedictine was an accomplished surgeon for the times; after which, having satisfied himself that his patient was able to bear the transit, he departed, with a cheerful benediction, to render the like aid to others.

So comforted was Elfric, and so relieved from pain, that he slept all through the following hours, as they bore him along through woodland paths; and he dreamt that he had met his father and was clasped lovingly in his forgiving arms.

At daybreak they were six or seven miles from the camp, and they rested, for the continued effort had wearied the bearers.  They made a fire, cooked their breakfast, and tried to persuade Elfric to eat, which he did, sparingly.

Then they resumed their journey; they kept as much in the shade as possible, for it was a bright day; rested again at noontide, with only five or six miles before them; started when the heat was a little overpast, and just after sunset came in sight of the halls of Aescendune, from the opening in the forest whence Elfric had beheld them that night when he first brought Prince Edwy home in company with his brother Alfred.

The wounded youth raised himself up, looked with intense affection at the home of his youth, and sank back contented on his couch, thinking only of father and mother, brother and sister, and the sweet forgiveness he felt sure awaited him.  Poor boy!

It was almost dark when they reached the gate of the castle, and the drawbridge was up.  One of the bearers blew his horn loudly, and the summons brought the warder to the little window over the postern gate.

“Who are you, and what do you seek?” was the cry.

“We are bringing my young lord, Elfric of Aescendune, home from the battlefield wounded.”

“Wait a while.”

A few minutes passed; then the drawbridge was lowered, and the bearers bore their burden into the courtyard.  Every moment Elfric expected to see the beloved faces bending over him; but all seemed strange, till he remembered that Redwald had remained behind at the hall; the four bearers spoke uneasily to one another, and Oswy disappeared in the dusky twilight.