Then Kolgrim said: 

“Where has the other man gone?  I had forgotten him for the moment.”

“Bide here and see if any poor farm folk are yet alive,” I said.  “I will ride after him.”

So I gave the horse I was holding to my comrade, and went back quickly down the lane to where Osmund and the other two were.  The man I sought was speaking with the jarl, whose face was white and troubled.  Harek was looking red and angry, but on Thora’s face was written what I could not understand—­as it were some fear of a new terror.

Now it was plain that all three were very glad of my coming; but the stranger looked round for a single glance, and then went on speaking to Osmund.

“Be not a fool, jarl,” he said angrily.  “Here is your chance; let it not slip.”

“I tell you that my word shall not be broken,” Osmund replied, very coldly and sternly.

“What say you, girl?” the man said then, turning to Thora.  “Short shrift will be the jarl’s when Alfred finds that we are on him.”

But Thora turned away without a word, and then the Dane spoke to me: 

“Here! you are another hostage, I suppose.”

“I am not,” I answered.

“Well, then, here is Jarl Osmund, if you know him not, and he is one.  Tell him that what I say is true, and that Chippenham town will be burned out tonight king and all.”

I saw that the Dane, seeing that I was armed, and not clad in the Saxon manner altogether, took me for one of his own people.  And from his words it was plain that some of the Danish chiefs had broken away from Guthrum, and were making this unheard-of mid-winter march to surprise Alfred.  Most likely they were newcomers into Mercia, and had nought to do with the Exeter host.

“Maybe it is true,” I answered; “but I am no Dane.”

He laughed loudly.

“Why, then, you are one of Alfred’s Norsemen!  Now I warn you to get away from Chippenham, for it is unsafe, and there will be no king to pay you tomorrow.  I think that you will say with me that it were better for Osmund to come with me to meet the host than to go back to Alfred and be hung before he flies—­if he gets news of us in time to do so.”

Herein the man was right, for Alfred had warned the chiefs at Exeter that he held the hostages in surety for peace on the part of all and any Danes.  But I thought I might learn more, so I said: 

“Guthrum thinks little of his friends’ lives.”

“Guthrum!” the Dane answered sneeringly; “what have we to do with him and his peace making?”

“What then are you Hubba’s men?”

“He is in Wales.  Think you that we are all tied to the sons of Lodbrok?”

“You might have worse leaders,” I said.

And just then Kolgrim came along the lane, leading the three horses, and on them were the armour and weapons of the slain.  It was not my comrade’s way to leave for other folk aught that was worth having.