We watched
him closely, for he began to come down towards us, and as he came nearer
I knew him. It was one of the Combwich villeins--a fisher of the name
of Elgar.
Now I would speak with him, for he could tell me all I needed; yet I
knew not if he had made friends with the Danes, being here and seeming
careless.
We lost sight of him among the trees, and the birds flew up, croaking,
from them, marking his path as yet towards us; and at last he came from
behind a half-burnt hut close to us. Then I called him by name.
He started, and whipped out a long knife, and in a moment was behind the
hut wall again. So I knew that he was not in league with the enemy, but
feared them. Therefore I rose up and called him again, adding that I was
Heregar, and needed him.
Then he came out, staring at me with his knife yet ready. But when he
saw that it was really myself he ran to meet me with a cry of joy and
knelt before me, kissing my hands and weeping; so that it was a while
before I could ask him anything. Very starved and wretched he looked,
and I judged rightly that he had taken to the woods from the first.
Presently he was quiet enough to answer my questions, and he told me
that at first the Danes had had a strong post on the hill above us; but
that, growing confident, they had left it these two days.
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