At first they were for killing me offhand as it seemed, but the leader would not hear of that.

“Search him first, and let us see who he is,” he said.  “We may have caught the wrong man, after all.”

So they came to me and searched my pouch and thrust their grimy hands into the front of my byrnie, and there they found the king’s letter, which they seized with a shout of delight.  Then they took my arms, wondering at the sword with its wondrous hilt.  Only my ring mail byrnie they could not take from me, as they feared to untie my arms.

“Not much would I give for your life if this warrior got loose,” said one of them to that one who had the letter.  “See how he glares at you.”

And true enough that was, moreover.  I should surely have gone berserk, like the men Thorgils told me of as we rode yesterday, had I been able to get free for a moment.

They took my belongings to the leaders, and they asked for some one who could read the letter, and there was none, even as I had expected, so that I was glad.

“It does not matter much,” the leader said; “doubtless it has a deal of talk in it which would mean nought to us.  We will have it read the next time one of us goes to the church,” and with that he grinned, and the others laughed as at a good jest.  “Let me look at the sword he wore.”

He looked and his eyes grew wide, and then he whistled a little to himself.  The others asked him what was amiss.

“If we have got Owen’s son, we have taken Ina’s own sword as well,” he said.  “Many a time have I seen the king wear it before the law got the best of me.  It is not to be mistaken.  Now, if we are not careful we have a hornets’ nest on us in good truth.  Ina does not give swords like this to men he cares nought for, and there will be hue and cry enough after him, and that from Saxon and Welsh alike.”

“Kill him and have done.  That is what we meant to do when we laid up for him.”

So said many growling voices, and I certainly thought that the end was very near.

“Ay, and have ourselves hung in a row that will reach from here to the bridge,” the leader said coolly.  “Mind you this, that with the Welsh up against us we cannot get to Exmoor, and with the Saxons out also we cannot win to the Mendips, as we have done before now.”

“There is the fen.”

“And all the fenmen Owen’s own men.  Little safety is there in that.”

“But he slew Morgan, as they say.”

“Worse luck for Morgan therefore.  What is that to you and me, when one comes to think of it?”

Now I began to understand the matter more or less.  It seemed to me that these were Morgan’s outlaws, and that somehow they had heard all the story.  No doubt that was easy enough, for it would be all over Norton before the night was very old after our coming.  And these outlaws have friends everywhere.  So they had laid up for me, and now the leader was frightened, as it would seem, or else he had some other plan in his head.  It did not seem that he had wished me to be slain, from the first, if it could be helped.  Maybe the others had forced him to waylay me.  A leader of outlaws has little hold on his men.