The desperate repulse which the Normans received at the hands of the Saxon outlaws, made them exceedingly chary of attempting again the extermination of them. This afforded a welcome respite to the fugitives, particularly to the women and children. But the vigilance of their sentinels was never permitted to be relaxed. The retreat to which Ethel had been conveyed was thus free from alarms, and lacked nothing in picturesqueness and beauty. Oswald had taken care that it should be furnished with some comfort and taste, for he had been wont in summertime to spend often many days, and even weeks, in this secluded and lovely spot. To Ethel, this home in the mountains was dearly welcome. During the day she busied herself with the books of history, travel, and romance which Oswald loved; and at even her countenance brightened at his cheery words and pleasant greetings. But for some days a strange feeling of anxiety and foreboding had clouded her happiness; for more than a week Oswald had not so much as paid a hurried visit to his favourite rendezvous.

"Your master has not been here for more than a week, Bretwul," said she one day, when her anxiety for tidings could no longer be resisted. "Do you know what detains him? I fear me he has fallen into the hands of the Normans."

"He will not fall into the hands of the Normans so easily, lady. If he does it will only be his body, though I am afraid he ventures on some desperate enterprises."

"Whither has he gone, Bretwul? Know you?"

"I know not for certainty, lady, but I have belief he has gone with one Sigurd, lord of Lakesland, for he has disappeared and taken his wild-cat crew with him. Good riddance, I trow! and may my eyes never look upon such starved, ill-clad, unsavoury mortals again!"

"Who is this Sigurd you speak of, Bretwul?"

"He is lord of the Lakes, but has had served out to him the same treatment as every other Saxon chieftain has had; first wholesale butchery of his followers, then death, or flight and exile, for himself."

"What has he been doing here?"

"He has been hunted, harassed, and driven from one hiding-place to another, until he had but a handful of followers left. Then he sought respite in flight, and has been for a little while with us here, he and a dozen of his housecarles. Now he hears the Norman army has gone south, so he would fain return to the fray, and has craved the assistance of the Earl and a dozen stout retainers, in return for the services he rendered us."

"I had a dream last night, Bretwul. I saw Oswald fighting desperately with Norman foes, and then he was surrounded by them and sorely wounded. Then I saw him borne by rough hands to a cave in the mountain side, and I saw him swiftly bleeding to death, and no one there knew how to staunch his wounds or cool his feverish brow; and I heard him cry 'Ethel!' And as I stretched out my hands to help, I awoke."

"It was but a dream, lady. Do not let your mind run on such thoughts as these. You are looking pale and ill. My master will be angry when he returns, if he knows I told you of his purpose."

"Can we not go to-night? I do not care to spend my time in idleness and ease while he thus braves danger and death for his country. By hard riding we can reach Lakesland ere the sun is up, and I am sure I can be of service."

"Beshrew me if I dare budge a stone-throw from this place until he gives the word! I like not lying to rust, like the Earl's old swords hung there, in idleness; but I would rather not face him after disobeying orders."

"But he may be wounded, and no one near to nurse him but these rough men, whilst I am worse than useless here, with nothing to do but burden others!"

"Set your fears at rest, lady. These rough men know how to lay a splintered bone, or close a wound, like any practised leech. But if you let your mind run on these things you will be miserable. I have no fear for him. The Normans will find their match, I trow, and give him a wide berth. I have seen them cut down churls like myself with vigorous strokes, and strike halting blows at him, through sheer terror at his appearance."

"But they are many to one, and better armed, and he will be overborne by the numbers of them. I am sure I could be of service, and I should like to be near; I don't mind the rough life at all. Saddle us a pair of horses, and let us start to-night."

"I warrant the Earl would slit my ears if I dared do any such thing! But these are idle fears. I forget me, though; I have a message from the Abbot Adhelm. But, by our Lady! he is no longer abbot, but a humble friar, with no more power in his own abbey than any scullion priest. He was a worthy Father, and never turned a lean dog of a Saxon away without crumbs and comfort. But, among the other bad things these Normans have brought, are a lot of swag-bellied monks, who broach more ale-casks than they say prayers; and, by the Mass! they drink the ale, too, for there is never a drop, or a taste of venison, to bestow on a famishing palmer, or starving yeoman. I wish I could stick a nettle under their tails and make them trot, the whole brood of them. The Church will never make much out of my prayers, beshrew me! but I would with right good will rid her of these shaveling carrion who have come swarming at the heels of the fighting men."

"But you said you had a message from Adhelm, did you not, Bretwul?"

"Aye, aye, lady!" said Bretwul, highly gratified at the diversion he had effected. "When my tongue is set a-wagging, it is as long as my dog's when he is dead beat in chasing a hare; there's no hauling it in. Well, Adhelm has found some pity in a wolf's den. Whoever would have looked for a she-wolf having compassion on the sheep?"

"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about Bretwul."

"Marry, no! there's no sense in an ass's braying; but bringing him to the end on't is another matter. Well, gramercy! this fire-eating Norman count has got a daughter who belies her own father."

"Belies her own father? What may that mean?"

"Aye, marry, it's true enough—belies her own father. I take the liberty to dodge about a bit amongst the churls who have submitted to these Normans, to see what encouragement there may be to feed at the same trough as these broken-spirited cattle. Well, an iron collar about my neck is an ornament I don't covet, and kicks and cuffs always did bruise my flesh, and, what is even more painful, they bruise my mind; so a Norman serf I will not be. But they tell me this count has a daughter who has compassion, and visits them, carrying dainties to such as are sick. Adhelm also and she are great friends, and he says she occupies herself much in this sort of work."

This colloquy was cut short by a sharp knock at the door and the hurried entrance of one of the Earl's retainers.

"Bretwul!" said he; but, his eye alighting on Ethel, he suddenly paused. "I crave your pardon," said he, hastily doffing his cap. "Matters of importance, which stand not on ceremony, have brought me."

"What are they, my man?" said Ethel, eager and apprehensive.

"The Earl is slightly unwell," said the stranger, noticing Bretwul's cautioning gesture; "and I have ridden hard to request that a bed may be prepared."

"My dream! my dream!" almost shrieked Ethel, starting from her seat. "He is not dead yet! Say he is not dead?"

"Calm yourself, lady," said Bretwul, giving the stranger another significant look.

"No, no, lady; a mere scratch. A few weeks of your nursing will set him on his feet as sound as a rock. But you will make ready, Bretwul? They are not far behind."