Presently he reined up and came alongside us, taking his part in
our talk in all cheerfulness. And from that time I had little
thought but of the pleasantness of the ride in the sharp winter air
and under the bright sun with him toward the new court which I had
often longed to see, with its strange ways, in the ancient
British-Roman palace that he had so often told me of.

So we rode along the ancient and grass-grown Roman road that lies
on the Polden ridge, hardly travelled save by a few chapmen, since
the old town they called Uxella was lost in the days of my
forefathers. The road had no ending now, as one may say, for beyond
the turning to the bridge across the Parrett for which we were
making it passed to nought but fen and mere where once had been the
city. All the wide waters on either side of the hills were hard
frozen, and southward, across to where we could see the blue hill
of ancient Camelot, the ice flashed black and steely under the red
low sun of midwinter. Before us the Quantocks lay purple and
deepest brown where the woods hid the snow that covered them. Over
us, too, went the long strings of wild geese, clanging in their
flight in search of open water--and it was the wolf month again,
and even so had they fled on that day when Owen found me in the
snow.

And therewith we fell into talk of Eastdean, and dimly enough I
recalled it all. I knew that an Erpwald held the place even yet,
but I cared not. It was but a pleasant memory by reason of the
coming of Owen, and I had no thought even to see the place again.
Only, as we talked it did seem to me that I would that I knew that
the grave of my father was honoured.