n the old man spoke to me with words
of good counsel.

"Keep up heart, master. Make for Cornwall, and turn viking with the next
Danes who come."

I would not answer him, but walked down the hill a little. Then the
bitterness of my heart overcame me, and I turned, and shaking my staff
up at the hill, cursed the Moot deeply.

So I went--an outlaw.

CHAPTER II. THE FIGHT WITH TWO.

Now whither I went for the next two hours I cannot tell, for my mind was
heedless of time or place or direction--only full of burning hate of
all men, and of Matelgar most of all. And though that has long passed
away from me, so that I may even think of him now as the pleasant
comrade in field and feast that he once was, I wonder not at all I then
felt; for this treachery had come on me so unawares, and was so deep.

Wherever it was I wandered it took me away from men, and at last, when I
roused myself to a knowledge again of the land round me, I was hard on
the borders of Sedgemoor Waste; and the sun was low down, and near setting.

Perhaps I had not roused even then; but it came into my mind that I was
followed, and that for some time past I had heard, as in a dream, the
noise of footsteps not far behind me. Now, since I was in the glade of a
little wood, a snapping stick broke the dream, and I started and turned.

Where I stood was in the shadow, but twenty paces from me a red, level
sunbeam came past the tree trunks, and made a bright patch of light on
the new growing grass beneath the half-clad branches. And, even as I
turned, into that patch of light came two of Matelgar's men, walking
swiftly, as if here at last they would overtake me. And, moreover, that
sunlight lit on drawn swords in their hands; so that in a moment I knew
that his hate followed me yet, and that for him the Moot had been too
merciful in not slaying me then and there, so that these were on that
errand for him.

Then all earth and sky grew red before my eyes, for here seemed to me
the beginning of my revenge; and before these two knew that I had
turned, out of the dim shadow I leapt upon them, silent, with that
quarterstaff aloft. Dazzled they were with the sunlight, and thinking
least of all of my turning thus swiftly, if at all. And I was as one of
the Berserks of whom men spoke--caring not for death if only I might
slay one of those who had wrought me wrong.

Into the face of that one to the left flew the iron-shod end of the
heavy staff and he fell;