For a time the old woman sat and watched him.
It had needed no words from the wounded, half-fainting chieftain to tell her that the day was lost.
She thought of the proud Romans who were now masters of the country; of the villages which would be burned, and of their inhabitants who would be carried away into slavery.
Being a selfish old woman, she soon began to think less of other people's troubles than of her own.
What would happen to her, she wondered, were the Romans to come this way and find out that she was giving shelter to the vanquished chieftain?
She trembled as she thought that soon this poor hut might shelter her no longer; that her few belongings might be taken away from her, and she herself be driven out to perish upon the cold hill-side.
As she looked at her guest, lying asleep in a corner, and frowning a little with the pain of his wound, she felt as though she hated him.
An ugly look came into her face as she realised her helplessness.
Presently she heard cries echoing in the valley, and peeping from the door of the hut she saw some flying Britons, closely pursued by two Roman soldiers.
The Britons disappeared in a thicket and were lost, and as the woman watched the soldiers beating the bushes and brambles with their swords in a vain search for the fugitives, a very evil thought came into her mind.