“Here is a hurry beyond a jest,” said Erpwald, sitting up; “somewhat is amiss, surely.”

Never rode men in that wise but for life.  In a minute they were close, and one of them spied me and called to me, waving his arm toward the palace and reeling in his saddle as he did so.  His arm was bandaged, and I saw that the spear his comrade next him bore was reddened, and that the other two had leapt on their horses with nought but the halter to guide them withal, as if in direst need for haste.  Not much longer could their horses last as it seemed.

I sprang up and followed to the king’s courtyard, leaving Erpwald wondering, and a footpath brought me there almost as they drew rein inside the gates.  One of the horses staggered and fell as soon as he stayed, and his rider was in little better plight.  That one who had beckoned to me knew me, and spoke at once, breathless: 

“Let us to the king, Thane.  The Welsh—­the Welsh!”

“An outlaw raid again?” I asked.

“Would I come hither in this wise for that?” the man answered.

He was a sturdy franklin from the Quantock side of the river—­one whose father had been set there by Kenwalch.

“I can deal, and have dealt, with the like of them, but this is war.  They are on us in their thousands, and I have even been burnt out for being a Saxon, by a raiding party.”

“Whence?”

“From Norton,” answered another of the men.  “Gerent, their king, is there with a host beyond counting.  One fled from across the hills and told us, and we believed him not till the raiders came.”

With that I took the men straightway to the king, bidding the house-carles hold their peace awhile.  And even as we talked with this party, another man rode in from the Tone fenlands, and he had seen the march of the West Welsh men, and knew that Gerent’s force was halted at Norton.  A swift and sudden gathering, and a swift march that was worthy of a good leader, else had we heard thereof before this.

After that man came another, and yet another, till all the courtyard was full of reeking horses and white-faced men, and the ealdorman was sent for and Nunna; and in an hour or less the war arrow was out, and the news was flying north and south and east, with word that all Somerset was to be here on the morrow to hold the land their forebears had won from those who came.

Presently with the quiet of knowing all done that might be done on us, the ealdorman and I went down to his house.

“Here is an end of tomorrow’s wedding,” he said sadly.  “I do not know how Elfrida will take it, for it is not to be supposed that Erpwald will hold back from the levy, though, indeed, if ever man had excuse, he has it in full.”

I knew that he would not, also, and said nothing.  He was yet sitting on the settle where I had left him waiting for me, with the level sun in his face as it sank across the Poldens, and he looked content with all things.