Yet I could but say: "Friend should you call me, Wulfhere, my good
counsellor, not master."
And I reached out my hand to him, bowing to Alswythe, whose horse's neck
I must cross. And Wulfhere took it, and on our two rough hands Alswythe
laid her white fingers, pressing them, and, looking from one to the
other, said:
"Two such friends I think no woman ever had, or wiser, or braver. Go on
together as you will, and yet forget not me here in Glastonbury."
Then we loosed our hands, looking, maybe, a little askance, for our
Saxon nature will oft be ashamed, if one may call it so, of a good
impulse acted on, and Wulfhere said that we must think of those things
hereafter.
When we came to the gate there was a little crowd following us, for word
had gone round in some way that we were fugitives from Parret side. But
Wulfhere had bade the men answer no questions till we had seen the
bishop, lest false reports should go about the place. So the crowd
melted away soon, and we knocked, asking admission, and showing the
letter from the prioress of Bridgwater.
Now here there was much state, as it seemed, and we must wait for a
little, but then the gates were thrown open, and we rode through them
into the courtyard, which was large and open.
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