Wulf worked desperately, for his sorrow was great at the thought of what the outcast had gone through for him.
“An I had dreamt he was there,” he said to himself in self-reproach, “I had never bided there in the tree. A sinner he may have been, and a black traitor, as men do say, but he had that in him of gratitude which God will not forget!”
Between times, as he worked over the sufferer, he began gathering up certain weapons and other matters on which he knew that Karl set value, and these he hid within the cupboard beside the chimney. Busied thus, it was far in the afternoon when, as he was giving his patient another sip of warm milk, the latter suddenly opened his eyes and gazed at Wulf with a calm look of understanding and peace. This, however, quickly turned to anxiety and alarm as he began to remember what had gone before. His wandering reason was for the moment present and clear.
“Thou here?” he gasped. “Go; leave me here! They are after thee—they will find thee!”
“An they do,” Wulf said quietly, “they will find me in that place where is most claim upon me.”
At that moment he caught the sound of approaching men. Indeed, even the dulled ears of the sick man had long since been ware of it, and the noise was what had roused him; but Wulf’s attention had been all on his tasks, and he had no warning until from all the openings about the clearing appeared horsemen and foot-soldiers, while from beyond came the noise of horses and armor and of men’s voices.
Springing to the door, Wulf stood at bay, sword in hand, meaning to sell his life dearly rather than be taken or give up his charge, when a voice that he knew was raised, and Karl the armorer shouted:
“Nay, lad; an thou’rt a loyal German, give thine emperor better homage than that!” And through all his weariness and daze Wulf made out to come forward and kneel at the emperor’s stirrup.
They were friends, not foes, who had come this time.