There is a wondrous joy in the heart of a man who sees his own land again after long days at sea, but none of that joy might be mine as the long lines of the South Downs showed blue through the haze of the late September day.  Only the promise of Lodbrok’s son, that on English shores I should not fight, helped me a little, else should I have been fain to end it all, axe to axe with Rorik on the narrow deck just now, or in some other way less manful, that would never have come into my mind but for the sore grief that I was in.  And these thoughts are not good to look back upon, and, moreover, I should have fully trusted my friend Halfden Lodbroksson.

Hardest of all was it to me when I knew where our landing was to be made; for if Glastonbury is the most holy place in Wessex, so should Bosham, the place of Wilfrith the Saint, be held in reverence by every South Saxon; because there, unmindful of his wrongs {ix}, he was content to labour with the wild heathen folk, teaching them, both in body and soul, the first lessons of our holy faith.

Well knew I the stories of those places which I saw as the ships crept up the haven, for Humbert our bishop had told me them many a time when as a child I sat on his knee and listened, wondering.  There was Selsea with its pile of buildings—­Wilfrith’s own—­there the little cliff over which the starving heathen had cast themselves in their despair, and there, at last, the village, clustering round the little monastery that Dicul, the Irish monk, had founded, and where Wilfrith had first taught.  And now, maybe, I must see the roofs that had sheltered him, and heard the first praises of his converts, burnt before my eyes, and that while I myself was siding with the destroyers.

Then at last I took Halfden aside and told him my trouble, putting him in mind of the promise he had made me.

“Aye,” said he, “I knew what made you so silent, and I have but waited for you to speak.  Ill should I have thought of you had you not done so.  But I have this plan for you.  You shall go ashore with the first, and speak to the Saxons to give us ransom, if they have aught, or if any man is foolish enough to bide in the place when we come.  Then, if you will, you shall leave us and make your way homeward, there to give messages to my father and yours, and to look for my coming to Reedham shortly.  There will I winter with you, and we will sail to Jutland in the spring.”

Then he looked long at me, and put his arm round my shoulder.

“Truly I shall miss you, Wulfric, my brother, yet it is but for a short time.”

Now I knew not how to thank him, for this plan was all that I could wish.  And he would have no delay, but gave me good Saxon arms and helm, and a chain-mail byrnie {x} of the best, such as Saxon or Dane alike would wear, for he had many such, gathered from the different lands he had raided with his father and brothers.

“Any man, seeing you in Danish arms and helm,” he said, “might well mistrust you.  So you must needs take these, for you have far to go.”