Presently, indeed, the noise and heat of the hall irked me, and I found my way out.  It was a broad moonlight night, and the shadows were long across the courtyard.  There was a strong guard at the gate, which was closed, and far off to the westward there twinkled a red fire or two on hill peaks.  They were the watch fires of the Welshmen, and I suppose they looked at the bright glare from the palace windows as I looked at their posts.

In the little chapel the lamp burned as ever, but no one stirred near it.  I thought I would find Father Selred in our lodging, and turned that way; and as I passed the corner of the chapel I met a man who was coming from the opposite direction.

“Ho!” he said, starting a little; “why, it is the Frank.  What has led you to leave the hall so early?”

Then I knew that it was Gymbert the marshal.

“I might ask you the same,” I said, laughing.  “I have not learned to keep up a feast overlong in the camps of Carl, however, and I was for my bed.”

“Nay, but a walk will bring sleep,” he said.  “I have my rounds to make, and I shall be glad of a companion.  Come with me awhile.”

So we visited the guard, and with them spoke of the fires I had seen, and laughed at the fears of those who had lighted them.

“All very well to laugh,” said the captain at the gate; “but if the Welsh are out, it will be ill for any one who will ride westward tonight.  Chapman, or priest, or beggar man, he is likely to find a broad arrow among his ribs first, and questioned as to what his business may be afterward.”

Then we went along the ramparts to the rearward gate; and it seemed as if Gymbert had somewhat on his mind, for he fell silent now and then, for no reason which I could fathom.  However, he asked me a few questions about the life in Carl’s court, and so on, until he learned that I was a Wessex man, and that I was not going back to him.

“Then you are at a loose end for the time?” he said.  “Why not take service here with Offa?”

“I am for home so soon as this is over,” I said.  “If all is well there, I have no need to serve any man.”

“So you have not been home yet,” he said slowly, as if turning over some thought in his mind.  “What if I asked you to help me in some small service here and now?  You are free, and no man’s man, as one may say.”

“Nor do I wish to be,” I answered dryly.

I did not like this Gymbert.

“No offence,” he said quickly.  “You are a Frank as one may say, and a stranger, and such an one may well be useful in affairs of state which need to be kept quiet.  I could, an you will, put you in the way of some little profit, on the business of the queen, as I think.”

“Well, if the queen asks me to do her a service, that may be.  These matters do not come from second hand, as a rule.”

He glanced sidewise at me quickly, and I minded the face of another queen, whose hand had been on my arm while she had spoken to me with the tears in her eyes.