last night as they went in haste, hardly knowing they had it, perhaps.
Well, better with me than with the Danes, I thought, and so bestowed the
bag inside my mail shirt, and thanked the man who sent me on this
errand. For now I felt as if free once more; for with sword and mail and
money what more does man need?

When next I came to a place that looked out over sea, I could no more
spy the ships. They must have stretched far across to the Welsh coast.
Only the two holms broke the line of water to the north and east up
channel.

Then the thought came to me that the Danes were gone, and what use going
further with this errand? But that was not my business; the war arrow
must go round, and the bearer must not fail, or else "nidring" [vii]
should he be from henceforward. So I went on.

Now, at last, was I but a mile or two from Stert, and began to wish to
meet one to whom to give the arrow--but saw no man. I turned aside to
a little cluster of thralls' and churls' huts I knew. There were no
people there, and one hut was burnt down. Afterwards I heard that they
had been deserted by reason of some pestilence that had been there; but
now it seemed like a warning to do the duty that had been thrust on me.

Then at last I remembered the prophecy of the old hermit--and my heart
bounded within me--for, indeed, unlooked for as this was, surely it
was like the beginning of its working out.

Now would I go through with it, and on the head of Matelgar be the blame
were I slain. Known was I by name to the messenger who gave me the
arrow, and to those thralls, and known therefore would my going to