“Why, my son, I know not that you had much choice.  And as for fighting against outlanders—­let me heft that axe of yours.”

He took it, and it fell into his hands in a way that told me that he, too, had been a stark fighting man at some time.

“Take it away, my son, take it away!” he cried, thrusting it back on me; “I am not the man to blame you.  And I know that much good has come to us from your being with them.  And from your talk about martyrs I know that you have done no honour to their gods.”

I said truly that the question had never come into my mind.  For, save as oath or war cry, the names of Thor and Odin were not heard.  They sacrificed on going to sea, and on return; and meanwhile cared naught, so far as I knew, for none had questioned my faith.

He said it was well, and so talking we went on.  And he said that, as friend of his, none would question me, so that I should find all I needed for my journey in the town.  And when we came there—­meeting the sheriff’s ill-armed levy on the way—­we went to the house of a great thane, and there were well and kindly received.

Yet once and again as I slept I dreamed and woke with the cry of Rorik’s men in my ears, and before me the bell seemed to flash again as it crashed through the ship’s side.  And once I woke thinking that the smell of burning was round me, and felt, half awake, for the stone walls of the well chamber.  But at last I slept soundly and peacefully.

CHAPTER V. HOW WULFRIC, LODBROK, AND BEORN HUNTED.

When morning came it was great wonder and joy to me to wake and find myself in England and free, for indeed I had begun to think of my comradeship with the Danes as a sort of thralldom that I knew not how to break.  And now I longed to make my way back to Reedham as soon as I might, for I had been many weeks away, though I have said little of all that befell in that time beyond what was needful.  One thing saved me from grief that might have been, and that was the knowledge that Ingild, the merchant, had not been told to look for my coming, and that none at home would wonder if I were long away, because of that plan of wintering our ship in the Thames.  And I knew that not one of my poor crew could have lived to take news of the wreck.

That I must take back myself; and though I could not fairly be blamed for loss of ship and crew, the thought of having to break the tidings to those who would mourn for their lost ones was very hard to me.  But it must be done, and there was an end.

Now came to me, as I thought of these things, my friend the Prior of Bosham, and he sat down beside me and asked how he could further my plans.  He himself must go to Selsea, there to see the bishop and tell him all, not forgetting my part, as he said.

I told him that I only needed a horse, and that then I should ride to London, where I had friends:  and he asked me if I had money wherewith to buy one, for he had none, else would he gladly do so for me.  And that reminded me of the bag which Halfden gave me, and I opened it.