I believe that I escaped very narrowly, and also that the silver penny was the cause thereof.  For, first of all, it had been likely that Eadmund’s messenger would not have found me so easily had I gone elsewhere than back to get it, and so I should have been belated and attacked in the street by these men.  And next, the goldsmith warned me that the armed men waited outside.  And then it was certain that Godric, the earl’s man, would have cut me down before I could have drawn sword, had I not already held the weapon unsheathed.  And that was because I looked on the penny and its setting before belting on the scabbard.

Now I thought, when we were fairly on the road, that we would go to Peterborough, to my good friend the Abbot Elfric, for I would fain tell him all this, thinking that he might warn Eadmund of Streone to more effect than could I. And inside the abbey walls would be a safe place for the night.  It was not so certain that we should not be pursued, and so we went quickly, the horses rejoicing in the road after their idleness, for we had been three weeks in Stamford, waiting for the earl.

So we rode till we came to Castor, the old Roman town, and stayed not there, but went to the ford over the Nene at Water Newton, the road beyond the river being better than that on this side.  It is not an easy ford, for a horseman has to turn downstream when nearly over, else he is over head and ears before he knows.  One of my men had known somewhat of the place, and was going through first, but as his horse shied a little at the sparkling water and he was urging it in, a man rode fast down the opposite bank, and into the river, coming over to us.  I heard his horse snorting, as if out of breath.

“Watch how he comes,” I said to my man.

But there was little use in that, for he went to ride straight through, and next moment his horse was swimming, and he was crying for help, being bewildered, for the river was full and current strong.

Now, I was used to swimming my horse in our Stour fords, which are often very deep in autumn and winter, and so I rode in and grasped his horse’s bridle, and told him to take heart, and so fetched him to our side.

“Give me a fresh mount, in the king’s name,” he said, for his horse was spent.

“Little thanks is that,” said I.  “What is the hurry?”

“I am sent with all speed to Redwald the thane, at Stamford, with word for Eadmund the Atheling.”

“I am Redwald,” I said.  “Who sent you?”

“Olaf the king.  Show me your sword, master.”

I held out the hilt of my sword, for that was a token which a messenger should give and receive that Olaf and I had agreed on.

“Cnut the Dane has landed at Sandwich,” the man said.  “Eight hundred ships he has, and men more than I can count.  The Kentish men have risen, and Olaf is with them; but he has not, and cannot have enough men to stay the Dane.  There must be a levy of all England.”