r Cannington hill, a broken helm
rolled from my horse's hoof from among the grass of the roadside. Those
things brought back to us the memory of war and trouble even in our new
happiness; and there, over the river, was the new-made mound over Elgar,
the man who had died for his land, and not in vain.

It was many days since we started from Salisbury town, however, before
we came to Cannington, and in that time we had sought the house of
Turkil's father, the franklin, lodging with him for a day and night,
that we might seek Leofwine the hermit. But him we might not find, for
he was dead, and that grieved me sorely, for I would fain have seen him
again, aye, and if it might be, taken him to live with us.

But he died as the tide went out on the day of Stert fight, and those
who stood by him say that he had visions of all that befell there.

For many times he called to me as exhorting me; and once, after long
silence, in the gray of early dawn, he rose up, crying, "Up, Ealhstan,
up, for the Lord has delivered these heathen into your hands!"

And that was at the time when the bishop had heard those words spoken to
him. And again, once more he roused, even at the time when the Danes
drew off from us at the coming of Osric. He lifted his hands, crying
"Victory!" thrice, and then saying very softly, "Heregar, my son," was
silent thereafter till he died at the time of the lowest ebb, only his
lips moving as if in prayer. And I remembered the strange voice I had
heard crying round me, and I wept, for I thought how much more was
wrought by the prayers of feeble ones than men wot of.

But his prophecy had indeed come true, and though I might not see him
more, the memory of Leofwine is with me always, with his words of wise
counsel that he had spoken to me.

Now of that other one who prophesied in her strange way to me I know no
more, nor did I ever see her again. Gundred the witch, men called her,
knowing her well, and fearing her. But she was never seen after the
Danes swept over our land, and how she ended none ever knew. I sought
her carefully that I might give her shelter and ease for the rest of her
days, but without avail.

All his life long has Dudda the Collier bided with me, serving well and
roughly, but in all most faithfully, as is his wont. And not many days
after we came homewards he brought me the berserk's axe to hang in hall,
for he had taken it and hidden it when we left the battlefield on the
day after the