This he said one day, being full of his purchase, and I think that the cheerfulness of the good man helped our king.

“Verily, Redwald, my son,” the abbot said to me, “if I get not St. Florentine home, I think my money is not lost.  The king waxes more hopeful when he sees the shrine waiting to be taken overseas.”

Nor could I say for myself that I was not pleased with the stay in Rouen.  For I had never known the fierce joy of victory, and the rest from the long tale of defeat was good to me.  Yet I set myself to learn all that I could of the splendid weapon craft of the Norman warriors, for I thought that I should yet need in England all I could learn.  And the new life and scenes pleased me well, for I was young enough to let the cares of our poor land slip from my mind for a while.

So the long winter wore away, and at last the season came when we might look for the first ships of the year, and with them news from England.  Then Eadmund would go to the haven at the mouth of the great river Seine that runs to Rouen, so that he should be at hand to hear the first tidings that came.  Glad enough was I to go with him, and we took up our quarters in a great house that belonged to the duke at the town they call “The Haven,” and there waited, ever watching the long gray sea line for a coming sail.

But none came until the first week in March, when the wind blew steadily from the northeast, and the sky was clear and bright with promise of open weather.  Then at last we saw eight ships together heading for the haven, and that sight was more welcome than I can say.

When they came near we knew that they were no traders, but long dragon ships, and at first we thought they were Danish vikings; and the townsmen armed in haste and mustered along the wharves to prevent their landing, if they came on their wonted errand of plunder.  And eagerly enough did Eadmund and I join them, only hoping for another blow at our foes, and having no thought in our minds that the ships we watched were bringing us more hope than we dared long for.

Next I knew that these ships were like no Danish vessels that I had ever seen, but were far more handsome, both in build and fittings.  Nor did they fly the terrible raven banner as most Danes were wont.  Then it was not long before the lines of armed townsmen broke up their ranks and crowded down to the wharves to greet the ships in all friendliness, for they were Norse, as it would seem, and the Norse viking is ever welcome in the land that Rolf Ganger, the viking, won for himself.

So the ships came into the harbour, brave with gilded dragon heads and sails striped with bright colours, all fresh from their winter quarters, and Eadmund turned away, for he thought that they would be Swein’s men, of the host of Thorkel the Norseman, his great captain, and foster father of Cnut his son.  For Swein held Norway as well as Denmark, and many Norsemen followed him.  Thorkel’s host was that which slew Elfheah, the good archbishop of Canterbury, whom his monks called Elphege, but last year.