And then he thought that all this must be fixed from of old, and he laughed.
"No cause have I to love these black Danes," he said, "and no cause to love the sons of Regner Lodbrok. I will seek this Alfred, and perchance I may find him mightier than Hungwar, and so my rede will be read."
But then he thought that Alfred himself had said that the White Christ was the mightiest of all, and at that he frowned. Not yet did Wulnoth feel any love for that Lord, and he was too honest to pretend to a faith which he did not possess—not even for Edgiva would he do that.
"A man's word is as a man's honor," he said, "and a man's honor should be as a man's life. I will not tell my Princess that I love her Lord until I can feel that He is my Lord indeed."
"Then there you are foolish, Wanderer," said a mocking voice in his ear, and he turned, his hand on his sword, to see beside him that strange being so like himself, who had taken his name and fought with him in the past days.
"You here!" he cried sternly. "Have I not bidden thee leave me and trouble me no more?"
"As well bid your shadow leave you, Wanderer," was the answer he received. "Said I not to you that I would be with you—that I would be your servant? Now you have been foolish, and much trouble has come from it. Of old you might have possessed this Princess, and now you may do so—for what matters it what faith you profess, seeing that they all are equally vain. Go to this Alfred, declare you are a Christian, marry the Princess, and all will be well."
"Thou tempter, so like myself that thou seemest my very double!" cried Wulnoth. "I will not listen to such base words."
"Base words! Foolish thought! Does not the wise man get that which he covets in the easiest way? Still, if thou art so tender in thy conscience, I will tell thee another way—a way like unto that which heroes have practised from of old."