“Who is he?”

“Some thane or other.  What shall I do with him?”

“Cnut wants to see all captives.  Take him to the fort whence we came.”

He passed on, and Thrand said: 

“Master, if you can find Egil all may be well, Let us go.”

That was all that I could do.  Egil or Godwine might befriend me.  Godwine surely would, but I knew not if his word would go for anything.

Aye, but that was an awesome walk across the upland, where the flower of England lay dead.  I knew not what had befallen us fully until I went slowly over Ashingdon hill.  All the best blood of England was spilt there; and I knew, as we passed the wide ring of heaped corpses where our stand had been longest, that the hopes of Eadmund had come to nought, and that the shadow of Streone lay black across his life.

We came to the further slope of the hill, and were going down, and through the tears of rage and grief that filled my eyes I saw a few horsemen breasting the slope towards us, and one of them was Edric Streone the traitor himself; and when I saw him I felt as a man who lights suddenly on a viper, and I shuddered, for the sight of him was loathsome to me, and Thrand ground his teeth.

Streone’s eyes fell on us, and he turned his horse to meet us.  And when he knew who I was he glowered at me without speaking, and I looked him full in the face once, and then turned my back on him.  He did not know my man.

“Bind your prisoner,” he said sharply to Thrand.

“No need to do that,” said Thrand coolly, “he is sorely hurt, and has no arms.”

Then the other horsemen rode up leisurely.

“Who is this?” said one—­and he was Jarl Eirik.

“No one worth having,” said Streone, and reined round his horse to go on as if caring nought.

They went on up the hill.  I suppose that they were going there that Edric Streone might say who the slain were.  As for us we went our way, and Thrand cursed the earl with every step.

We had hardly got away from the hill when men came after us in haste, and before I knew that it was myself whom they sought, they had pushed Thrand aside and bound my hands.

“What is this?” Thrand asked angrily.

And I said: 

“Bind me not.  I go to yield myself.”

“Earl Edric’s orders,” said the men.  “We are to keep you here till he comes.”

At that I knew that I had fallen into his hands, and that my life was not worth much.  I could see that Thrand knew this also.

“That is all very well,” I said; “but I am Egil Thorarinsson’s captive.”

Whereat one of the men laughed.

“You may not choose your captor, man.  Egil has not been ashore all day.  He is with the ships yonder.”

Then Thrand said, seeming very wroth: 

“I will not lose a good captive and ransom for any Mercian turncoat.  I will go and find the king and make complaint.”