“Wulf,” said I, “how fares the thane?”

“Well, lord,” he answered, staring at me.  “He is in the hall an you want him.”

And then of a sudden a great smile began to grow across his face, and he roared in his honest Wessex voice: 

“By staff and thorn, if it is not our young master home from the wars!  Good lack, but how you have grown and widened!”

He clutched at my hand and shook it, and then kissed it, after a friend’s fashion first, and then as a thrall should, saying all sorts of welcomes.  And then he turned, forgetting any business which was taking him to the hill, and must needs lead my horse with all care down to the hall.  And as he went, whenever he saw any man of the place he shouted to him, and one by one men came running, until I had half the village after me.  That was a good old Saxon welcome, and I could not find fault with it.

So we came to the hall gate, and the dogs ran out and barked; and I thought I could tell those which had been but pups when I left home, for they had been my charge.  Then they bayed and yelled, mistrusting what all the noise meant, though they saw none but friends there, till two gray old hounds rose from the sunny corner of the court and came running, and they knew me; and I called them by name, and the rest stilled their clamour.

Then, with his sword caught up to him, my father came to the great door and called for silence, and so saw me as I sat in my outland mail and stretched my hands to him; and after him came my mother.  So I was home once more, and all was well.

I need say naught of the feasting which they made for me, nor of all that I had to tell of my doings since that day when the Danes came and took me.  Little enough there was to tell me, save of the village happenings; and that was well, for it meant that there had in every way been peace.

Two days after I came home my cousin came from Weymouth, rejoicing to see me safe and well once more, for he had ever blamed himself for my loss.

Presently we spoke of Ecgbert, but there was yet no chance for him to return.  Our Wessex queen, Quendritha’s daughter, was bad as her mother, in all truth; but Bertric the king was just and wise, save only when he was swayed by her.  Moreover, to him Ecgbert had sworn fealty when he came to the crown, and until he was gone he would do naught.

And then there was the question as to whether it was safe for me to come home.

There was an old thane who came to see me at this time, and he had been to Winchester within a few days; and he settled the matter, having heard all the court news from Mercia.

“Quendritha’s power is over for good and all,” he said.  “Offa has sworn a great oath that he will never set eyes on her again.  They say that she is shut up in some stronghold, with none but men of the king’s own round her, and that there she pines and rages in turn, helpless for harm.  You may be sure that no word of you has come hither.  Doubtless she believes you fled back to Carl the Great.  You may sleep in peace.”