“Behold, another cometh,” he said. “Stop, Egwina! If he choose to bear us company, the way will not seem so long.”
They waited for him, and soon the juggler came up with them.
“Whither away, my merry man?” cried Wulfhere heartily, as the gleeman approached. “Brothers we be of the same craft. Therefore, if it seems good to thee, let us bear each other company.”
The juggler hesitated a moment, and then answered:
“Willing am I for a short while at least; if it so be that the girl will wind the horn while thou and I talk by the way.”
“With right good-will will she do so,” answered the harper. “’Tis as easily wound for three as for two, and always doth she wind it to save me the toil. Wulfhere is not what he once was!”
“Wulfhere is thy name?” questioned the other, fixing his glittering eyes upon the maiden with such a look that she shrank from it, and crept close to the side of her grandsire. “Ælfric am I called in East Anglia, which is my home; but the Danes have driven us from our houses, or pressed into slavery our people, and I fled into Wessex for safety.”
“Brothers we be in craft, and sibbe also in the fact that we flee from the Dane,” remarked Wulfhere. “Fearful is the pirate who hath so ruthlessly destroyed the homes and laid waste the land of our people.”
“Whither art thou going?” queried Ælfric.
“North into Berkshire and from thence into Wiltshire,” answered the old man.
“Then together can we journey but a short distance, for on the morrow our paths must be sundered, as I go into Kent. But while our roads are one tell me of the deeds which the Northmen have done of which thou thyself wottest, and I in turn will tell thee that which hath happened to me.”
Then, with emotion, did Wulfhere tell of his grief in the death of his grandson, Siegbert.
“And I,” said Ælfric, after he had expressed his sympathy, “abode in Thetford of East Anglia at the house of Eldred the thegn, and was the chief of his gleemen. None was so honored as I, and the heart of my lord clave unto me with love. Alack! the Northman fell upon us, and I wot not whether my lord be living or dead. I fled from the foe. When I was far distant, I looked back, and behold the manor was in flames.”
“Didst thou not fight for thy lord?” queried Wulfhere in amazement.
