nt to
see the Dragon of the line of Arthur.

All the afternoon of that day Ina sat and saw the long files of
captives pass before him, and I was there to question any he would,
for he knew little or none of the Welsh tongue.

Many of these captives were of high rank, men who had only yielded
when they must, and here and there I knew one of these by sight.
They would be held to ransom by their captors, and the rest,
freeman or thrall, as they had been, would be the slaves of those
who took them, save they also could pay for freedom. It was a sad
enough throng that passed under the shadow of the proud banners.

At last I saw one whom I knew well, and whom the king knew, for it
was Jago. He stood in the line, looking neither to right nor left,
but taking his misfortune like a brave man.

"Here is Jago, the friend of Owen, whom you know, King Ina," I
said.

The king glanced up at the Welsh thane. There was no pride of
conquest in the face of Ina as he gazed at his captives, and when
one came as Jago came he looked little at him, lest he should seem
to exult.

"Take him, and do what you will with him, Oswald. We owe you much
again; if you see others for whom you would speak, tell me. I will
deal with friends of Owen as you will. That is known already, and
none will gainsay it."

I thanked the king quietly, but none the less heartily, and I ran
my eyes down the line, but I saw no more known faces. So I went
after Jago, who had passed on.

"Friend, you are free," I said. "That is the word of our king, for
the sake of old friendship."

He could not answer, but the light leapt into his eyes, and he held
out his hand to me. Then I took him to the tent which my
house-carles had pitched next the king's, where Nunna's should have
been, and bade him sit down there. Then I went out and brought up
my own prisoners, passing the commoners into the hands of the men
who had been with me, but keeping the chief until the last. Two of
the house-carles led him up, and his face had as black a scowl on
it as I had ever seen, and he looked sullenly at us.

"Who is he?" asked Ina, turning towards me.

I did not know, and, to tell the truth, had forgotten to ask him in
the waiting for news of Nunna. So I asked him his name with all
courtesy, and could win no answer from him but a blacker scowl than
ever. Judging from his arms, which were splendid, and of the half
Roman pattern that Howel wore, he might be of some note. I thought
Ja