over it hung a cauldron, whence steam rose merrily, and it was
plain that my friend of last night was not far off, so I lay still
and waited his return.

Then my eyes fell on my clothes and arms as they hung from pegs in
the walls over against me, and it seemed as if the steel of mail
and helm and sword had been newly burnished. Then I saw also that a
rent in my tunic, made when my horse fell, had been carefully
mended, and that no speck of the dust and mire I had gathered on my
garments from collar to hose was left. All had been tended as
carefully as if I had been at home, and I saw Elfrida's little
brooch shining where I had pinned it.

That took me back to Glastonbury in a moment, but I had to count
before I could be sure that it was but a matter of hours since I
took that gift in the orchard, rather than of months. And I
wondered if Owen knew yet that I was lost, or if my men sought me
still. Then my mind went to Evan, the chapman outlaw, and I thought
that by this time he would have given me up, and would be far away
by now, beyond the reach of Thorgils and his wrath.

Now the seaward door opened, and a swirl of spray from the breakers
on the rocks came in with my host, who set a great armful of drift
wood on the floor, closed it, and so turned to me.

"Good morrow, my son," he said. "How fare you after rest?"

"Well as can be, father," I answered, sitting up. "Stiff I am, and
maybe somewhat black and blue, but that is all. I have no hurt. But
surely I have slept long?"