Now it was in my mind that it was possible that I might be back in Thetford, or wherever Ethelbert’s court might be at the time, sooner than I had any wish.  For if aught had happened amiss at home, so that our lands, for want of the heir, had fallen into the hands of Bertric, I should be left with naught but my sword for heritage.  Then—­for the king had spoken of these chances to me—­I was to come straightway back to him and take service with him.  My knowledge of the ways in which Carl handled his men would be of use to him, and a place and honour would wait me.  But I would not think much of such sorrow for me, though that it was possible, of course, may have been the great reason which made me silent when there were words I had more than once had it on the tip of my tongue to say to Hilda.  Could I have known for certain that home and wealth yet waited for me, I know that I must needs have asked her to share them, now that at the end of this daily companionship I learned what my thoughts of her had grown to be.

“Ay, I shall be back with Ethelbert at some time,” I said.  “I do not forget promises.”

After that we rode down the long hill silently enough, and the way did not seem so bright to me.  And so through the long day we rode, stopping for an hour or two at the strong oaken hall, moated and stockaded, of some great border thane for the midday meal.  There were the marks of fire on roof and walls; for once the wild Welsh had tried to burn it, and failed, in a sudden raid before Offa had curbed them with the mighty earthwork that runs from Dee to Severn to keep the border of his realm.  “Offa’s Dyke” men call it, and so it will be called to the end of time.

And now we were on the way of the war host from west to east, the way of the Welshmen, and making toward the ford of the Wye, which they were wont to cross, so that we call it the “ford of the host,” the “Hereford.”

It was late when we came into the little town of Fernlea, which stands on the gentle rise above the ford, for the five-and-twenty miles or so of this day’s work had been heavy across the hills.  The great stronghold palace whither we were bound lay some miles northward, and it seemed right that we waited here till the next day, that into it we might pass with all travel stains done away with and in full state.

Already there had been a royal camp pitched for us by Offa’s folk, and I was glad that we had not to bide in the town.  One could not wish for better weather for the open, and the lines of gay tents, with the pavilion for the king in their midst, seemed homely and pleasant to me with memory of the days which seemed so long ago when the camp of Carl was my only home.

As soon as we reached this camp under the hill, where the town stockading rose strong and high against the Welsh, the thane I have already mentioned, Gymbert, arranged our lodging, he being the king’s marshal in charge of us, and also warden of the palace.  He was a huge man, burly and strong, somewhat too smooth spoken, as I thought, but pleasant withal.  He gave me a tent to myself, somewhat apart from the king’s pavilion, as a Frankish stranger, I suppose.