I shook my head, but it came over me for a moment that I wished I might recall the wandering fancies of the winter days in Penhurst—­but that passed, and I was lonely in heart.

“Nay, thane, that is not so.  My sword here is all that I love next to my king and Olaf my cousin—­and Relf the thane.  I have no love for any maiden, nor could Sexberga think twice of me.”

“If you had bided a little longer.  Well, then, no hearts are broken, or so much as awry, and that is well.  So, as I was saying, Penhurst will be lonely directly, and already I love this maiden with the outland name for saving you.  How would she take it if we gave her shelter with us?  I am going back home in a day or two, and you must come with me.”

The good thane spoke fast, being easier in his mind, as it seemed, on one point, and not willing to make any show of generosity on the other.

“That is a kind thought of yours,” I said, being very glad, and not less so that I could not help rejoicing that I should see more of Uldra.

“I wonder what my wife would say?” he said thoughtfully.

“If I know aught of her kindness, and I think that I have proved it well,” answered I, “she will be glad to help this orphan maiden.”

“Let us go and see her, and ask her to come, therefore,” said Relf, rising up.  “I want to thank her, moreover, for saving you.”

I was nowise loath, and so we went along under the trees towards the nunnery.  And as we went Relf talked of Eldred, the Thane of Dallington, and the wedding that was to come.  And all the while I believe that he was troubling about two things that were mixed in his mind—­fear that I was set aside by Sexberga, and a wish that I had been the bridegroom.

Then we knocked on the great door, and he was silent until a sister looked through the little barred square wicket in the midst of it.

“We would speak with the Lady Uldra,” I said.  “I am the thane who brought her ashore.”

The sister said nought, but shut the wicket door, and left us.  We heard her steps retreating across the little courtyard, and she shut a door after her somewhere else.  Then all was quiet.

“What does that mean?” Relf said.

“That we have to wait,” said I “that is all.  It is the way in which they treat folk at these places.  They would do the same if the queen came.  She has gone to her Superior.”

“What would Emma say?” chuckled Relf, looking slyly at me.

“One cannot say much to an iron-barred oak door.”

“But there are thanes and such-like left outside,” he said, laughing more yet.  “Now Godwine is not here, I dare say that you have felt, more than once, the queen’s tongue for nought.”

“I will deny it,” said I, “to anyone but Elfric the abbot,” whereat he laughed till the tears came into his eyes.  He had known our queen in the old days before Streone’s treachery.

I was glad that the wicket flew open again.  Relf stayed his laughter in a moment, and became very grave.