“We cannot tell whence they are.  They speak a strange sort of English, as it were, like the Northumbrian priest we have.  Red-headed, big men they are, and good-tempered so far, seeing that none dare gainsay them.  But they are most outrageously thievish.”

“What have they taken, then?”

“Ask the bakers and butchers.  Now they are gathering up all the horses, and they say they are going to drive the cattle.”

“Sheriff’s business that, in all truth.  Get to him as soon as you may.  I will go and see if I can reason with them meanwhile.”

“Have a care, thane!” they cried, and spurred their horses again.

Then my cousin turned to me, and his face was grave.

“Wilfrid,” he said, “you had better go with those messengers.  I am going to see if aught can be done; but it sounds bad.  I don’t like an armed landing of this sort.”

“No, cousin,” I answered.  “Let me go with you.  It would be hard if you must send me back, for I would fain see the ships.  That talk of driving the cattle can be naught but a jest.”

“Likely enough,” he answered, laughing.  “It is no new thing for a crew to come ashore and clear out the booths of the tradesmen without troubling to pay offhand.  Presently their captains will come and pay what is asked, grumbling, and there will be no loss to our folk.  As for this talk of taking the horses—­well, a sailor always wants a ride when he first comes ashore, if it is only on an ass.  Then if there is not enough meat ready to hand in the town, no doubt they would say they would find it for themselves.  Well, come on, and we will see.”

So we rode on, but the laugh faded from the face of my kinsman as we did so.

“They have no business to come ashore armed,” he said, half to himself, “and Weymouth folk ought to be used to the ways of seamen by this time.  I don’t like it, Wilfrid.”

Nevertheless, we did not stop, and presently came among the first houses of the village, where there was a little crowd of the folk, half terrified, and yet not altogether minded to fly.  They said that the strangers were sacking the houses along the water’s edge, but not harming any one.  However, they were taking all the ale and cider casks they could find on board their ships, and never a word of payment.

“Do not go near them,” said my cousin.  “Doubtless some one will pay presently, and I will go and speak with their head men.  Maybe they can’t find any one who can rightly understand their talk.”

“Oh ay,” said an old man, “it passes me to know how a thane like your worship can understand all sorts of talk they use in England.  It is all the likes of us can compass to understand even a Mercian; but I warrant you would ken what a Northumbrian means easily.”

He shook his head with much wisdom, and we left him grumbling at the speech of the priest we had already heard of.