At last we were set on horseback, and with two score or more mounted spearmen round us, we rode quickly out of Caistor town.  A few men shouted and ran after us, but the guards spurred their horses, and it was of no use for them to try and follow.  And the night was dark and foggy, though not cold for the time of year.

I feared lest we were going to Reedham, for there my folk would certainly rise in arms to rescue me, and that would have made things hard for them; but we went on southward, riding very fast, until after many long miles we came to the little hill of the other Burgh that stands where Waveney parts in two streams, one eastward to the sea, and the other northward to join the Yare mouth.

The moon had risen by the time we came there, and I could see a large fishing boat at the staithe, and, alas! alongside of her a smaller boat that I knew so well—­that in which Lodbrok had come, and in which I had passed so many pleasant hours with him.  Then the thought crossed my mind that what he had taught me of her was like to be my safety now; but my mind was dazed by all the strange things that came into it, and I tried not to think.  Only I wondered if Ulfkytel had got the boat without a struggle with our people.

The earl was there with a few more thanes and many more guards, and they waited by the waterside.

One man started from beside the earl as we came, and rode swiftly towards us.  It was Egfrid, my brother-in-law to be—­if this did not bring all that fair plan to naught.

He cried out to the men to stay, and they, knowing who he was, did so, and made no trouble about his coming to my side.  There he reined up his horse, and laid his hand on my shoulder.

“Alas for this meeting, my brother!” he cried.  “What can I do?  Men came and told me of rumour that was flying about concerning this business, and I have ridden hard to get to Reedham, but I met the earl, who told me all.  And I have prayed him to let the king judge, but he will not, saying that his mind is fixed on higher judgment—­and you know what he is.”

Then I said: 

“So that you hold me not guilty, my brother, I mind not so much; for if I must die you will take my place, and my father will not be without a son.

“I think you guilty!” he cried; “how could that be?  Shame on me were I to dream thereof—­and on any man of all who know you who would deem you could be so.”

“Have you heard all?”

“Aye, for the earl has told me very patiently, being kind, for all his strange ways.  At last I told him that his wish for justice blinded his common sense.  And at that, instead of being wrath, he smiled at me as on a child, and said, ‘What know you of justice?’; so that I was as one who would beat down a stone wall with his fists—–­helpless.  He is not to be moved.  What can I do?” and almost did he weep for my hard case.

“Let things go their own way, my brother,” I said gently.  “I do not fear the sea, nor this man here—­Beorn.  Do you go to Reedham and tend Lodbrok’s hawk for me, and send word to my father, that he may come home, and to the king, so that Lodbrok may have honourable burial.”