That seemed strange to me, and I sat still, looking back with the horse’s head turned towards the main road.

“Stay not, master,” Kolgrim said. “’Tis some outpost, and the men have slept over the farmhouse ale.  Maybe the stables behind are full of horses.  Have a care, master; the door opens!”

He was going; but I waited for a moment, half expecting to see a spear point come first, and my hand was on my sword hilt.  But the great heavy door swung slowly, as if the one who opened it had trouble with its weight.  So I must needs see who came.  Maybe it was some old man or woman whose terror I could quiet in a few words.

Then the red firelight from within shone out on me, and in the doorway, with arms raised to post and door on either hand, stood a tall maiden, white robed, with gold on neck and arm.  The moonlight on her seemed weird with the glow of the fire shining through the edges of her hood and sleeves.  I could see her face plainly, and it was fair and troubled, but there was no fear in her looks.

“Father, is this you?” she said quietly.

I could make no answer to that, and she looked intently at me; for the moon was beyond me, and both Kolgrim and I would seem black against it, as she came from the light within, while the wind, keen with salt spray, was blowing in her face.

“Who is it?” she said again.  “I can scarcely see for moon and wind in my eyes.”

“Friends, lady,” I said, for that at least was true in a way.

“Where are my horses?  Have you seen aught of our thralls, who should have left them?” she asked, looking to whence we had just taken the beasts.

Now I was ashamed to have taken them, for she was so plainly alone and helpless, and I could not understand altogether how it could be so.  I was sure that she was Danish, too.

“How is it that you have not fled, lady?” I asked.  “Surely you should have gone.”

“Ay; but the thralls fled when they heard the news.  Has not my father sent you back for me?”

This seemed a terrible plight for the maiden, and I knew not what to say or do.  She could not be left in the way of our Saxons if they came on the morrow, and I could not take her to Poole.  And so, lest I should terrify her altogether, I made up my mind even as she looked to me for an answer.

“I think your father is kept in Wareham in some way.  Does he look for you there?”

“Ay, surely,” she answered; but there was a note as of some new fear in her voice.  “Has aught befallen him?  Have the Saxons come?”

“All is well in Wareham yet,” I answered.  “Now we will take you to your father.  But we are strangers, as you may see.”

Then I called to Kolgrim, who was listening open eyed to all this, and backed away from the door a little.

“What is this madness, master?” he whispered hoarsely.

“No madness at all.  Ten minutes’ ride to Wareham with the maiden, give her to the fisherman to take to her friends, and then ride away—­that is all.  Then we shall be in Poole long before any look for us, for we are in luck’s way.”