it seems the only way to reach him. And you mind that the
princess told you to have a care for yourself. Evan said that if
strife was stirred up between us and Gerent they would be glad. If
they slew you, my Thane, it is likely that there would be trouble,
unless Gerent is as wroth as I should be."

So I went with a few guards and spent the day and night with Owen
at Norton. I knew it was the last chance I should have of seeing
him for a long time, but we talked of the coming summer, promising
ourselves that journey together to see Howel. I told him how things
went with Elfrida and me, and he did not seem to wonder much, nor
to think it of any consequence. He laughed at me, and told me to
get over it as soon as I could, and that was all.

But this last warning he could no more understand than I. It was
his thought that it was meant for me rather than himself.

"You will have to take heed to any Welshman you meet," he said,
"and as you are warned that should be no very difficult matter. No
Briton can ever pretend to be a Saxon."

I do not think that there is more to be said of that meeting,
though indeed I would willingly dwell on it. Mayhap it will be
plain why I would do so presently, for I left him bright and happy
in his old place, with nought but the distance from the foster son
whom he loved to trouble him.

But when I rode away again the sorrow of that parting fell heavily
on me, and I could not shake it off. It seemed to me that I would
not see Owen again, though why it so seemed I could not tell. If I
had any thought of danger to myself I should have cared little, so
it was not that. I wonder if one can feel "fey" for another man if
he is dear to you as no other can be?

CHAPTER XI. HOW ERPWALD FELL FROM CHEDDAR CLIFFS; AND OF ANOTHER WARNING.

In the coming week, after I had thus taken leave of Owen, my friend
Herewald, the ealdorman, would have a hunting party before we all
left him and Glastonbury for Winchester, and so it came to pass
that on the appointed day a dozen of us rode with a train of men
and hounds after us along the westward slopes of the Mendips in the
direction of Cheddar, rousing the red deer from the warm woodlands
of the combes where they love to hide. We had the slow-hounds with
us, and that, as it seems to me, is better sport than with the
swift gaze-hounds I rode after on the Welsh hills with Eric. It is
good to hear the deep notes of them as they light on the scent of
the