he cold, ever, though Ingvar the
King's cold rage is worse at times than his fury. But since that
day there has been somewhat strange about the king."

"I wonder not," I said; nor did I. "But how goes it with him?"

"Men say, though they dare not do so openly, that the ghost of
Eadmund will not let him rest, and that mostly does he fear him
when his rage is greatest. Many a time when the fury seemed like to
come on him, Ingvar turns white and stares suddenly beyond all
things, as though seeing somewhat beyond other men's ken, and the
sweat runs cold from his forehead. Many a man has escaped him
through this."

"Surely Eadmund holds him back thus from more cruelty," I thought.
And aloud I said:

"What think you of the matter?"

"Why, that I am glad that I was bold enough to save your dying king
from more torture--else had I seen somewhat before me day and
night. Truly I see him now betimes in my sleep, but he ever smiles
on me. Moreover, this is true, that all those seven men who shot
the arrows died in that week. Two died in Elmham Church when you
were nigh slain."

"Tell me of that," I said.

For no man knew rightly what had befallen there, save that under
the charred ruins of the roof lay Bishop Humbert and one or two of
his men.

But when he told me, it was as I thought. Those few men had fought
bravely until they were slain, themselves slaying three Danes. But
one of the bishop's men escaped, cutting through a throng at the
doorway and seizing a horse. Then was slain the bishop, who knelt
at the altar, not even turning round to face the Danes as they
came.

So I hold ever that as I lay for dead I had seen those brave ones
pass me even as they were slain. But of this I said naught to Raud,
at that time at least.

Now I asked Raud whence he had come, and he said:

"From London."

And at that I feared greatly, asking:

"Has Ingvar taken the city, therefore?"

"Not the king himself, but Guthrum went into London, taking good
ransom for peace."

"Where is Ethelred the king of England?" I said, half to myself.

"Ethelred?--he minds naught but Wessex for good reason. For Halfden
and Bagsac and the Sidracs are on one side of him, and Ingvar and
Hubba the other, waiting for him to make peace. But there is like
to be fighting. Alfred, the king's brother, has a brave heart and a
hard hand."

"Then all is quiet in London?"

"Peaceful enough; and there Guthrum the King holds court, and I
think men are