“Let us go ashore and speak with some one,” I said; “it is of no use our biding here on the water.”

Kolgrim and I were fully armed, and had boat cloaks with us which covered us well, and we thought none would question who we were if we mixed among the men in some inn or other gathering place.  So we bade the fisher wait for us, and found the stairs, and went to the wide green along the waterside, and across it to the houses, which were mostly poor enough here.

Many of them stood open, and in one a fire burned on the hearth, but all were empty.  So we turned into a street that led seemingly from one bridge to the other across the town.  Here men were going hither and thither with torches, and groups were outside some of the houses.  To the nearest of these I went, as if I had all right to be in the place.

They were bringing goods out of the house, and loading a cart with them.

“Here is a flitting,” said Kolgrim, “and another or two are on hand yonder.”

I stayed a man who came past me from out of a house.

“I have fled from Poole,” I said.  “What is in the wind here?  Are we to leave Wareham also?”

“If you come from Poole, you should know that it is time we did so,” he answered shortly.  “I suppose you saw the whole business.”

“So I did,” I answered.  “What are the orders?”

“Pack up and quit with all haste,” said he.  “You had better get to work if you have aught to save.”

“Shall we go to Exeter, or back to Mercia?” I said.

“Exeter they say; but I know not.  Why not go and ask Jarl Osmund himself—­or follow the crowd and hinder no one with questions?”

He hurried on; but then some men began to question us about the doings off Swanage, and Kolgrim told them such tales that they shivered, and soon we had a crowd round us listening.  Nor did I like to hurry away, for I heard a man say that we were Northmen, by our voices.  But there were plenty of our folk among the Danes.

Then came a patrol of horsemen down the street, and they bade the loiterers hurry.  I drew Kolgrim into an open doorway, and stood there till they passed, hearing them rate their fellows for delay.

“Wareham will be empty tomorrow,” I said.  “Now we can go; we have learned enough.”

Still I would see more, for there seemed no danger.  Every man was thinking of himself.  So we went across the town, and as we came near the western bridge the crowd grew very thick.

We heard before long that the army was as great as Odda had thought, and that they were going to Exeter.  Already the advance guard had gone forward, but this train of followers would hardly get clear of the town before daylight.  They had heard great accounts of our numbers, and I wished we had brought the ships up here at once.  There would have been a rout of the Danes.

But the place was strange to me, and to Odda also, so that we could not be blamed.