Erpwald went off to the guest chamber where he was lodged, and presently I found our old leech and took him to see after him.  He went comfortably to sleep after his hurt had been dressed, and so I left him.  I will say at once that he felt no more trouble from it.

Then I went to the stables to see how fared my horse after the day’s work, and found him enjoying his feed after grooming.  I looked him over, but I could see no mark to show where the man might have hurt him.  But as I was running my hand along the smooth hock to feel for any bruise, my groom said to me: 

“Have you had a roll in a thorn bush, Master?”

“No.—­What makes you think I might have had one?”

“I found this in his flank when I rubbed him down, and it was run thus far into him.”

He held out a long stiff blackthorn spine, marking a full inch on its length with his thumbnail.

“Enough to set a horse wild for a moment,” he went on.  “And unless you had fallen, I could not think how it got there.”

“In which flank was it?” I asked, taking the thorn from him.

“The near flank, Master.”

That was where the thrall ran against him, and surely the huntsman was not so far wrong when he said that he did so on purpose.  If so, it was done at the right moment to give me a heavy fall, save for a bit of luck, or maybe horsemanship.  It was a strange business.

“I was through a thicket or two today,” I said carelessly.  “Maybe I hit a branch in just the right way to drive it in.  If we were galloping he would not have noticed it.  These little things happen oddly sometimes.”

Then the man began to tell me some other little mishaps to horses that could not be explained, bustling about the while.  And before long I left the stables and went to my own quarters, with the thorn yet in my hand.  It had been cut from the bush, and not broken, just as if it had been chosen.  Now, if these hidden plotters wanted to frighten me, I am bound to say that they succeeded more or less.  Was the giving of the horn by the Welsh girl to be a signal to the thrall in some way?  If there is one thing that a man need not be ashamed to say that he fears, it is treachery, and I seemed to be surrounded by it.  Hardly could a house-carle come to my door but it seemed to me that he must needs bring one of these unlucky notes.  It was just as well that I had some unknown friend to write them to me, though I cannot say that I had profited by them so far.

Now I sent two of my men to see if they could find the cross-eyed thrall, but of course he was not to be laid hands on.  Only the people who had been at the ealdorman’s door seemed to have seen him, and they could not tell who or whence he was.  He was so easily known, however, that I thought I should be certain to have him sooner or later.  Such a squint as he had is not to be hidden, and that made the wonder that he had dared to do this all the greater.