“Come again in a few minutes and say one word—­’Saxons’” I whispered, “then we shall go.”

He nodded and drew back.  I think the maiden had not heard me move, for she was bent over the bed and what lay thereon.  It seemed very long to me before I heard my comrade at the door.

“Saxons, master!” he said loudly.

“Say you so?” I answered, and then I touched the maiden’s arm gently.

“Lady, we must go quickly,” I said.  “The dame is past all help of ours, and none can harm her.  Come, I pray you.”

She stood up then, still looking away from me, and I drew the covering over the still face she gazed at.

“You must leave her, and I know these Saxons will not wrong the dead,” said I gently.  “Your father will miss you.”

“I am keeping you also in danger,” she answered bravely.  “I will come.”

“Loth to go am I,” she said, as she gathered her wrappings to her and made ready very quickly, “for it seems hard.  But hard things come to many in time of war.”

After that she ceased weeping, and was, as I thought, very brave in this trouble, which was indeed great to her.  And when she was clad in outdoor gear, she bent once more over the bed as in farewell, while I turned away to Kolgrim and made ready the horses.  Then she came, and mounted behind me on a skin that I had taken from a chair before the hearth.

Then we were away, and I was very glad.  The good horse made nothing of the burden, and we went quickly.  Many a time had I ridden double, with the rough grip of some mail-shirted warrior round my waist, as we hurried back to the ships after a foray; but this was the first time I had had charge of a lady, and it was in a strange time and way enough.  I do not know if it was in the hurry of flight, or because they had none, but the horses had no saddles such as were for ladies’ use.

So I did not speak till we were half a mile from the house, and then came a hill, and we walked, because I feared to discomfort my companion.  Then I said: 

“Lady, we are strangers, and know not to whom we speak nor to whom we must take you.”

There was a touch of surprise in her voice as she answered: 

“I am the Lady Thora, Jarl Osmund’s daughter.”

Then I understood how this was the chief to whom the man I spoke with first had bidden me go for orders.  It was plain now that he was up and down among the host ordering all things, and deeming his daughter in safety all the while.  He had not had time to learn how his cowardly folk had fled and left their mistress, fearing perhaps the sickness of the old dame as much as the Saxon levies.

Now no more was said till we came to the riverside, where the flood tide was roaring through the broken timbers of the bridge.  The fisher slept soundly despite the noise of wind and water, and Kolgrim had some trouble in waking him.

“How goes the flight?” I asked him when he came ashore with the boat’s painter in his hand.