forth
next morning. Arngeir was yet uneasy about it, nevertheless, as one
could see; but I did not at that time know why it should be so doubtful
a matter that two strong men should go forth and seek their fortune but
thirty miles away. So we laughed at him.

"Well," he said, "every one knows Radbard; but they will want to know
who his tall comrade may be. Old foes has Havelok, as Radbard knows, and
therefore it may be well to find a new name for him."

"No need to go far for that," Withelm said. "The marsh folk call him Curan."

"Curan, the wonder, is good," Arngeir said, after a little thought, for
we all knew Welsh enough by this time. "Or if you like a Danish name
better, brother, call it 'Kwaran,' but silent about yourself you must
surely be."

We used to call him that at times--for it means "the quiet" in our old
tongue--seeing how gentle and courtly he was in all his ways. So the
name was well fitting in either way.

"Silent and thoughtful should the son of a king be," says the Havamal,
and so it was with Havelok, son of Gunnar.

Now when I came to think, it was plain that we three stood in the mind
of our brother in the place which my father had boded for us, and I was
glad. Well I knew that Raven, the watchful, and Withelm, the wise and
thoughtful, would do their parts; and I thought that whether I could do
mine was to be seen very shortly. If I failed in help at need it should
not be my fault. It had been long growing in my mind who Havelok must
be, though I said nothing of what I thought, because my father had
bidden me be silent long ago, and I thought that I knew why.

We were to start early in the morning, so that we should get to the city
betimes in the evening; and there was one thing that troubled the good
sisters more than it did us. They would have had us go in all our
finery, such as we were wont to wear on holidays and at feastings; but
none of that was left. It had gone in buying corn, while there was any
left to buy, along with every silver penny that we had. So we must go in
the plain fisher gear, that is made for use and not for show, frayed and
stained, and a trifle tarry, but good enough. It would not do to go in
our war gear into a peaceful city; and so we took but the seax that
every Englishman wears, and the short travelling spear that all
wayfarers use. Hardly was it likely that even the most hungry outlaw of
the wild woldland would care to fall on us; for by this time such as we