m for their
evening trade in interest at the arrival of the strangers. It was long
since such a crowd had descended upon Thorney; trade might be improving.
Women, ragged, with more ragged children clinging to their skirts, came
from the fisher-huts upon the beach to gaze across the marsh.

And across the ford, on the crest of the long gentle rise of hill over
which the straight road ran, came riding a troop of horsemen,
carelessly, without order, in a tangle of waving spears and gleaming
helmets. No merchants or townsfolk were these; and a tingle went through
the crowd at the sight of weapons. Those were days when none knew what
to expect from hour to hour. The on-comers cantered down the hill and
into the waters of the marsh-ford; and it could be seen that they were
for the most part fair-skinned, and every man bore a round buckler of
bullock's hide upon his arm. At once a whisper flew from end to end of
Thorney:

"These be Saxons!"

The name had become a word with which to conjure. The crowd upon the
beach increased. Nicanor and Nicodemus stood in the forefront of it and
watched.

The leaders of the party--an old man with white drifting beard and hot
blue eyes, and a young one, with tanned face and brown, curling
hair--rode out upon the shingle with stern faces set straight ahead.
Those behind them were more free and easy as to bearing; a man leaned
from his saddle to scoop up water in his hand; there was joking in low
tones, and deep-throated laughter. As they drew nearer to the people,
waiting silent, it could be seen that they had with them a prisoner in
their midst, bound upon his horse and wounded; and at sight of him a
murmur fluttered through the crowd. For he went in the dress of a Roman
noble, torn and stained with blood, his head sunk forward on his breast,
his right arm in a sling--a pitiful object, were there those to pity.

With the crowd Nicanor and Nicodemus followed the Saxons as they rode
along the main street. Questions flew from mouth to mouth:

"Who is this lord, their prisoner? Whither take they him? How did they
capture him? For what come they here?" But to these no man could give an
answer.

VIII

Thereafter Fate, the grim, smiling goddess, took into her own hand the
shuttle of Destiny and sent it flying fast rough the warp and woof of
Life. For when they came to the river's brink, the tide was in, and the
waters of Tamesis, too deep to ford with safety since the moon was full,
swir