"I trust not, girl," he answered, kindly; "but if there be, I and Black Balder here, are men enough to brunt it. But hark you, girl, get supper over as quickly as you may, and have our mother to her chamber, and the varlets to their quarter in the kennels; and do you sit up, without a light, mark me, and, whatever shall fall out, be silent. I may bring some one with me."
"I knew it," she murmured to herself, as she turned away to do his bidding. "It is Eadwulf. What brings him hither? No good, I warrant me."
Meanwhile Kenric scaled the crags rapidly, with the hound at his heels, and, when he reached the spot where he had seen the figure, halted, and whistled a bar or two of an old Saxon ballad of Sherwood. It was answered, and from out of the brushwood Eadwulf came, cringing, travel-soiled, weary, and disaster-stricken, to the knees almost of his brother.
"So. This is thou, Eadwulf? I thought as much. What brings thee hither?"
"Almost as fair cause as I find fair welcome."
"I looked for no other. Thou art a runaway, then, and pursued? Come, speak out, man, if thou wouldst have me aid thee."
"Thou dost not seem overly glad to see me, brother."
"How should I be glad? When did thy presence ever bring joy, or aught else than disaster and disgrace? But speak, what brings thee hither? How hast thou escaped? Art thou pursued? What dost thou require?"
"Last asked, first answered. Rest, refuge, clothing, food, asylum. Last Monday is a week, I was pursued; pursuit has ceased, but I misdoubt me I am tracked. By strong hand I escaped, and fleet foot——"
"By red hand?" asked Kenric.