tle, before it,
too, was gone.

Well, thought I, Grendel the fiend was I but the other day, and now I am
to be a saint. And with that I could not restrain myself, but laughed as
once before I had laughed at this same man, for the very foolishness of
the thing. Yet I might not let Alswythe know that I laughed, and so
could not let it go as I would, and I saw that Wulfhere was laughing
likewise, silently.

Now this is not to be wondered at, though it was but a little thing
maybe. For we had been like a long-bent bow, overstrained with doubt and
anxiety, and, now that we were in safety with the lady, it needed but
like this to slacken the tension, and bid our minds relieve themselves.
So that laugh did us both good, and moreover took away some of the
downcast look from our faces when next we spoke to our charge.

When he could speak again, Wulfhere answered the man, still smiling.

"Aye, man, I saw him. And he was wondrous like Heregar, our master, here."

And at that the collier stared at me, and then said: "There be painted
saints in our church. But they be not like mortal men, being no wise so
well-favoured as the master."

And that set Wulfhere laughing again, for the good monks who paint these
things are seldom good limners, but make up for bad drawing by bright
colour. So that one may only know saint from fiend by the gold, or the
want of it, round his head.

Then fell I to thinking again about myself, and what it takes to make
man a saint or a fiend. And that thought was a long thought.

Now were we come across Parret, and began our journey into the fens. And
presently we must ride in single file along a narrow pathway which I
could barely trace, and indeed in places could not make out at all. And
here the collier led, going warily, then came Wulfhere, and then
Alswythe, with myself next behind her to help if need were. After us the
maidens, and then the rest.

So we were in safety, for half a mile of this ground was safer than a
wall behind us. We went silently for a little while, save for a few
words of caution here and there. But at last Alswythe turned to me, and
lifted her veil, smiling a little to me at last, and asking why we left
the good roads for this wild place, for though we men were used to the
like in hunting, she knew not that such places and paths could be,
brought up as she was in the wooded uplands of our own corner of the
country.

I told her how I was to make all speed to Glastonbury,