all, my father and I alike sailed for the love of ship and sea,
caring little for the gain that came, so long as the salt spray was
over us, and we might hear the hum of the wind in the canvas, or
the steady roll and click of the long oars in the ship's rowlocks,
and take our chance of long fights with wind and wave on our stormy
North Sea coasts.

So we went down to the shipyard, under the lee of Reedham Hill, and
found old Kenulf our pilot, and with him went round our stout
Frisian ship that my father had bought long ago, and at once bade
him get ready for sailing as soon as might be. And that was a
welcome order to Kenulf and our crew also; for well do the North
Folk of East Anglia love the sea, if our Saxon kin of the other
kingdoms have forgotten for a while the ways of their forbears.

Not so welcome was our sailing to my mother, who must sit at home
listening to the song of the breezes and the roll of breakers, with
her heart stirred to fear for us at every shift of wind and change
of tide. And fair Eadgyth, my sister, beautiful with the clear
beauty of a fair-haired Saxon lady, shared in her fears also,
though I think that she believed that no storm could rage more
fiercely than her father and brother and their crew could ride
through in safety. Once she had sailed with us in high summer time
to London, and so she held that she knew well all the ways of the
ship and sea; fearing them a little, maybe.

Yet there was another dread in the heart of my mother, for this is
what she said:

"What of the Danes, Elfric, my husband? Surely there is risk--aye,