"It is the young master," said one, and I knew the voice of Edred,
our housecarle. And when he was close to me I could see that he was
in almost as evil plight as had been Grinkel his comrade. The other
man I knew not, but he bore a headless spear shaft in his hand, and
Edred's shield had a great gash across it.

"Master, has Grinkel come?" Edred asked me.

"Aye, and is dead. He bade us fly, and could say no more. What of
my father?"

The men looked at one another for a moment, and then Edred said
very sadly:

"Woe is me that I must be the bearer of heavy tidings to you and
the lady your mother. But what is true is true and must be told.
Never has such a battle been fought in East Anglia, and the fortune
of war has gone against us."

The fear that I had read in my mother's eyes fell cold on me at
those words-and I asked again, longing and fearing to know the
worst:

"What of the thane, my father?"

"Master, he fell with the first," Edred answered with a breaking of
his voice. "Nor might we bring him from the place where he fell.
For the Danes swept us from the field at the last like dead leaves
in the wind, and there was nought left us but to fly. Two long