Then came the quick trot of horses, and I saw a little troop coming down the street, their arms flashing in the streaks of moonlight between the houses.
"I will see you in good hands, Lady Thora," I answered. "Who are these coming?"
"It is my father," she said, and drew me back deeper into shadow.
After the horsemen and beside them ran men who bore planks and ropes, and it was plain that the jarl had found out his loss, and hastened to bridge the gap and cross the river.
I saw that I could keep up the pretence no longer.
"Let me walk behind you as your servant," I said. "If any heed me, I pray you make what tale you can for me."
"What can I say to you in thanks?" she cried quickly, and letting go my hand which she yet held. "If you are slain, it is my fault. Tell me your name at least."
"Ranald Vemundsson, a Northman of King Alfred's," I said. "Now I am your servant--ever."
Then Thora left my side suddenly, and ran forward to meet the foremost horseman--for they were close to us--calling aloud to Osmund to stay. And he reined up and leaped from his horse with a cry of joy, and took her in his arms for a moment.
I got my cloak around me, pulling the hood over my helm, and stood in the shadow where I was. I saw the jarl lift his daughter into the saddle, and the whole troop turned to go back. The footmen cast down their burdens where each happened to be, and went quickly after them; and I was turning to go my way also, when a man came riding back towards me.