Then Torfrida’s heart swelled and she said softly, “What meanest thou? Put on thy byrny lest the foe come and have thee at advantage.”
“Nay, never more will I wear byrny or wield brand: never had I pleasure in killing; unless some noble quarry were in sight the hunt had little to draw me. Take the sword and give it to him whom thou lovest, and send the woodman to the warriors of thy father and they will take thee to Sigmund, and thou canst leave me or render me up that they may do as they list with me, and thou wilt return to Sigmund and wed him whose name was so lately on thy lips, for whom thou hast been weeping; for I little thought to part true lovers.”
Then Torfrida gave a sharp cry like a wounded bird and threw her arms around his neck, and with tears and kisses nigh strangled him. And she knelt down to lift his byrny, but he would not suffer her so to do but raised her by the hand. She fastened the byrny about him and begged him to get the horses that they might depart. So his heart was filled with joy and gladness as they rode away, and ever after, among all their troubles, and though oft-times he blamed himself for bringing her into so many perils, yet did she never upbraid him but always helped, so far as she might, and was ever sweet and gentle.
CHAPTER XVIII
HOW THEY LOST THEIR WAY IN THE GREENWOOD
And so they saddled their beasts and sped through the forest ever thinking that the men of Sigmund were upon them, and when night fell still they rode on, until at length Torfrida was utterly weary and like to fall from her horse. This Feargus saw, though she complained not, so that he drew up and dismounted. Then he set about to make her a tent with bushes and sticks, over which he stretched the plaid he carried. And she lay down inside the tent and he fitted an arrow to his bow and stood outside hard by. At about the midnight he was startled by the baying of a hound in the rear whence they had come. So he saddled the tired beasts, but judging their enemies to be yet a long way off, left Torfrida resting and went deeper into the forest till he came upon a sleeping stag which he slew, and cutting the skin therefrom fastened pieces on to the feet of their horses, judging that the hounds were following the horses’ track and not that of the deer. Then he went to Torfrida’s tent and said, “Sorry am I to arouse thee; full well I know thou art weary, but arise I pray thee, for now have they brought hounds to track us and we must away.”
She arose and came out and he lifted her into the saddle half asleep, and they went on, and in their rear could be heard the baying of dogs and movements of men and horses, and Torfrida was sore afraid and trembled. Then, further to hide the track of them, Feargus steered their way westward through the wood, till after many hours’ riding they won the river Trent, and taking a grip of Torfrida’s bridle he caused the beasts to plunge in and they swam strongly till they reached the shore. They entered there the forest of Sherwood, which was deeper than that through which they had come and full of swamps and devious ways and beasts and robbers. Little he liked to enter it, and he wrapped the cloak close around Torfrida as though she were a youth and put a man’s bonnet on her brow and bound a white cloth about her forehead, as though she were sick of a wound. Then out of his wallet he took an old dress, much worn but strong, like to the habit of a medicine man, and set it over his byrny, and such a sorry couple they made as it little would profit to rob. So they held on laboriously for three days, not daring to linger long in one place, but striking ever northwards through the greenwood. On the fourth day so weary was Torfrida that Feargus would have her to rest well, and in the dusk of evening they came to a stand in a glade of wondrous beauty nigh to where a burn ran, and were for resting there. He made the tent for Torfrida and cooked and ate of the stag’s flesh which he had slain and drank of the burn. Then, having eaten, Feargus took his sword and bow and went to look around, following the burn. He had gone but a stone’s throw from where they had set their camp when to his great amaze he saw a sheet of water stretching before him; he looked to the right hand and to the left down the broad stream. On the opposite bank was a forest, but of not such density as the Sherwood in which he stood. Where had he seen that place before? His heart leapt, for lo! they had come again to the spot at which they had crossed Trent water four days since! Then his courage failed him and he leant against a tree and nigh wept. So long he stood that Torfrida, wondering what kept him, followed his track yet visible in the soft earth, and came upon him and marvelled, so still he stood, till she beheld the water and knew the place, and threw herself upon his neck, and they stood there long together without speech.
“Better would it be, Torfrida, for thee if thou didst cross once more Trent water and seek thy father, for great travail will be ours or we win the land of the bens, if ever we reach it; for much I doubt whether we may win so far north.”
“Nay, then thou wilt have an arrow for each of us.”