“What of the blood feud, Erpwald?—­There is Aldred’s son yet.”

At that the priest lost temper with his follower, and turned on him savagely: 

“Is it for men to war with children?  What care I for a blood feud?  Can I not fend for myself?  Hold your peace.”

Then he said to Owen: 

“They say that you are the child’s foster-father now.  If I give him to you, will you swear that you or he shall cross my path no more?  You need not trouble to go to Ina, for he will not hearken to a Briton in any case.”

Owen reddened under the last, but for my sake he did not answer, save to the first part of the saying.

“I will swear to take the child hence and let this matter be for us as if it had not been,” he said, seeing that it was the best he could win for me.

What other thoughts were in his mind will be seen hereafter, but I will say now that it was not all so hopeless as it seemed to Erpwald.

“What of the other men,” asked one or two of Erpwald’s following.

“They shall bide here, where we can keep an eye on them,” the priest answered.  “They will not hurt us, nor we them, save only if they try to make trouble.”

Then some of our house-caries said in a low tone to Owen:  “Better to die with the master.  Let us out and fall on them.”

But he said:  “This is for the boy’s sake.  Let me be, my brothers; I have the thane’s word to carry out.”

Then they knew that he was right, but they bade him make Erpwald swear to keep faith with them all.

So he spoke again with the priest, asking for honest pledges in return for his own oath.  Whereon from across the courtyard, where a few wounded men lay—­a voice weak with pain cried, with a strange laugh: 

“Get him the holy ring, that he may be well bound.  It hangs yonder where I put it, in the gateside timbers.”

Erpwald glowered into the darkness, but he could see nothing of the man who had spoken.  But one of his men had seen the spear cast, and knew what was meant, though the fight had set it out of his mind.  So he ran, and found the shaft easily in the darkness, and took the ring from it, bringing it back to Erpwald.

“It is luck,” he said.  “Spear and ring alike have marked the place for Woden.”

“Hold your peace, fool,” snarled Erpwald, with a sharp look at Owen.

And at that Stuf laughed again, unheeded.

Then Owen swore as he had promised, on the cross hilt of his sword, and Erpwald swore faith on the ring, and so the swords were sheathed at last; and when they had disarmed all our men but Owen, Erpwald’s men took torches from the hall and went to tend the wounded, who lay scattered everywhere inside the gate, and most thickly where my father fell.

Owen went to that place, with a little hope yet that his friend might live, but it was not so.  Therefore he knelt beside him for a little while, none hindering him, and so bade him farewell.  Then he went to Stuf, who was sorely hurt, but not in such wise that he might not recover.