The stack was outside the stockade, and some twenty yards from its
corner. One of the men ran to the hall and brought a torch from its
socket on the wall, and handed it to Stuf, who threw it fairly on
the stack top, from the ladder. It blazed up fiercely as it went
through the air, and from the men who beset us there rose a howl as
they saw it. Several ran and tried to reach it with their spears,
but they were not in time. The first damp straws of the thatch
hissed for a moment, dried, and burst into flame, and then nought
could stop the burning. The red flames gathered brightness every
moment, lighting up two sides of the stockading, in the midst of
which the hall stood. Then an arrow clicked on Stuf's helm, and he
came down into shelter.

"This is a strange affair, Master," he said. "I have seen three men
whom I know well among them."

"Who are they?"

"Wisborough men--freemen of Erpwald's."

My father and Owen looked at one another. Words my father knew he
should have to put up with, after today, from Erpwald, but this
seemed token of more than words only.

Then came the blast of a horn from outside, and a strange voice
shouted that the thane must come and speak with those who called
him. So my father went to the gate and answered from within it:

"Here am I. What is all the trouble?"