“Nor had I,” I answered.  “I thought she was another silent nun.  But I thought she was like Sexberga, and so I called her Sister Sexberga to myself, giving her a name in my thoughts.  Then in the boat it slipped out unawares when I had to speak to her, and she asked to be told why I called her so.”

“As much like Sexberga as you are like Godwine, which is not at all,” said Relf laughing.  “Was she pleased?”

“Why, I think not,” I answered.

“How much more about Sexberga did you tell her?” he asked.

“Nothing, there was no need.”

Then Relf began to chuckle to himself, and I could not tell why.  But presently he said: 

“Did you give the sisters names likewise?”

“Yes, I did.  I do not think I should have cared to say what they were,” I answered, laughing also.

He said no more about this, and we came to the hall, and then went to find Godwine at the ships.  But I could not but feel disappointed that Uldra would not come with us.  And that was not all for her own sake, as I found when I came to turn over my thoughts a little.  I would fain see more of the maiden who had borne peril so well, and had stood so bravely at my side.

Now when Godwine heard how our errand had failed, he laughed at Relf’s downcast looks and said, scanning my weatherbeaten and forest-worn garments: 

“Maidens love to see warriors go in bright array.  She is tired of those old weeds of Redwald’s.  We must fit him out afresh in the morning, and then she will listen maybe.”

He was so pleased with this boyish wisdom of his own, being fully persuaded that he was right, that he and I must ride together to Chichester with morning light, and find new gear for me.

“We roll in riches since you fell into the pit,” he said, when I would pay for what I had with my last piece of gold.  “And you must keep that one; there are more due to you yet as I think.”

Nor would he be denied in this, and it is not a warrior’s part to take an earl’s gifts grudgingly.  And when I fairly shone in bright array from head to foot, he must needs add a wonderful round brooch, silver and gold wrought, with crimson garnets at the ends and in the spaces of the arms of a cross of inlaid pearl and enamel, such as one seldom sees.

“It is a Kentish brooch,” he said, “so shall men know that you are a friend of the earls of Kent and Sussex.”

That was an earl’s giving indeed, but Godwine is ever open handed, and I am not alone in learning how he will give.

“Now we must go back, and you shall seek this damsel again since old Relf is so set thereon.  As for you, it is likely that you have had trouble enough with her already, and will care little if she will not come,” he said, and looked me over from head to foot as we stood outside the chapman’s house in the wide place where the four roads cross in Chichester town.

“My faith!” he added, “I believe that even Emma the Cat would mind what you told her now!”