The smoke rose thickly from within them, for the burnt roof had fallen in.

“Take this warrior and bind his wound,” he said.  “It is Wulfric of Reedham, our friend.”

The faintness came over me again when the men raised me, though they tended me gently enough, and I could say naught, though I would rather they had cast me into the burning timbers of the church, even as I had bidden men do with that poor churl at Hoxne, that my ashes might be with those of our bishop.

So they bore me far, and at last left me in a farm where they promised all should be safe if they tended me well.  And Hubba rode with them, and came to bid me farewell.  But I could not speak to him if I would, so he went away sadly.  And as in a dream I heard him speak of care for me to the widow and her two sons to whom the farm belonged, and whom his men had taken unawares, so that they had not time to fly.

Presently came the best leech from Ingvar’s host and tended me carefully; and I needed it, for besides the spear wound, my right thigh was broken, by the trampling of the horse, as was most likely.

Thereafter I lay for many weeks, as they told me presently, sick and nigh to death; but being young and strong and no high liver at any time, I came through the danger well enough, and began to mend slowly.  Yet my sickness, when I could begin to think, was more of mind than body, and that kept me back.  For long did it lie heavily on my mind that I should have died with the king, and it was that sorrow and blame of myself that went sorely against me.  But after a time the love of life came back to me again, and I began to see things as they really were, untouched by a sick man’s fancies.  And then the words of the good Prior of Bosham helped me, teaching me that my life was surely spared for somewhat.

These good folk of the farm tended me most kindly, for they knew me by sight as a close friend of both king and bishop, and for their sakes were glad to do all they might for me.  But I pined for the touch of that one who had tended me when I was wounded before, Osritha, whom I had learnt to love as she did so.

Sometimes I would think that between her and me had now risen up a barrier stronger than the sea that was washing our shores alike, because that of Ingvar’s sister I might not think aught any longer.  And then I would set before me how that of these cruel doings nor she nor Halfden had any part, hating them rather, and so would comfort myself.  Long are the thoughts that come to a sick man.

Now it was not till February that I might take much heed of anything, but then I learnt that the Danes had wintered in Thetford, and that the land was in peace.  The war had passed on to the Wessex borders and then had slackened, as winter came earnest, and now the north and south folk, Dane and Angle, were foes no longer openly.  But Ingvar and Hubba were at Nottingham, waiting to fall on Wessex, leaving only strong garrisons in our towns.