Dunwal and his daughter had some few men and pack horses with them, and one Cornish maiden who attended Mara, so that we were quite a little train as we rode from Pembroke toward Tenby in the late afternoon, with a score of Howel’s guards to care for us in all honour.  Part of the way, too, Howel rode, and when we came to the hill above the Caerau woods, and looked down on the winding waters again, he said to me: 

“I have forgotten to tell you that my men took Evan.  By this time he has met his deserts.  I have done full justice on him.”

“Thanks, Prince,” I said with a shudder, as I minded what I had saved the man from.  “Did your men question him?”

Howel smote his thigh.

“Overhaste again!” he cried in vexation.  “That should have been done; but I bade them do justice on him straightway if they laid hands on him.  They did it.”

I said no more, nor did the prince.  It was in my mind that he was blaming himself for somewhat more than carelessness.  So presently he must turn and leave us, and we bade him farewell with all thanks for hospitality, and he bade me not forget Pembroke, and went his way.

Then I found Dunwal pleasant enough as a companion, and so also was Mara, and the few miles passed quickly, until we rode through the gates of the strong stockade which bars the way to the Danes’ town across the narrow neck of the long sea-beaten tongue of cliff they have chosen to set their place on.  The sea is on either side, and at the end is an island that they hold as their last refuge if need is, while their ships are safe under one lee or the other from any wind that blows.

Far down below us at the cliff’s foot, as we rode through the town, where the houses had been set anywise, like those at Watchet, and were like them timber built, we could see to our left a little wharf, and beside it the ship that waited us.  And the wind was fair, and the winter weather soft as one might wish it for the crossing.

Now, so soon as Thorgils had seen the baggage of the Cornish folk safely bestowed I had time for a word with him, taking him apart and walking up the steep hill path from the haven for a little way, as if to go to the town.  And so I told him who this man was, and what possible danger might be.

He heard with a long whistle of dismay: 

“’Tis nigh as bad as crossing with Evan,” he said—­“but one is warned.  Let them have the after cabin, and do you take the forward one; it will be safer.  Leave me to see to him when we get to Watchet, for it is in my mind that Gerent will want him.  Moreover, so long as he thinks that you fear him not he will be careless, and I will watch him.  He will want to learn more before he meddles with you.  As for the priest, I will tend him.”

So we were content to leave the matter.  Presently, when we were at sea, I do not think that Dunwal or Morfed had spirit left to care for aught.  I know that I had not.  I need not speak of that voyage, save to say that it was speedy, and fair—­to the mind of Thorgils, at least.