Now it chanced that King Alymer was passing along the sea-coast, and seeing the lads lying there, pale and bruised, he ordered that they should be carried to the palace, that they might be fed and that their wounds might be bathed.
So carefully were they tended in the palace of King Alymer that soon roses bloomed again on the cheeks of Hynde Horn and his two companions, strength crept back to their bruised bodies.
Ere many weeks had passed all in the palace loved Hynde Horn and knew that he was a prince worthy of his name.
When the prince was well, King Alymer listened to the story the lad had to tell, the story of his ruined home, his lost kingdom, his suffering at the hands of the cruel King Mury.
And King Alymer, for he was gentle at heart, shed a tear as he heard.
'Thou shalt stay at our court, Hynde Horn,' he said, 'and learn all that a prince should learn. Then, when thou art older, thou shalt go to war with Mury, the cruel king of the Turks. Thou shalt win back thine own kingdom and rule over it.'
Then the king called for Athelbras, his steward, and bade him care for Prince Horn and his two companions.
A suite of rooms was given to the prince in the palace, and here he and his playfellows were trained in all courtly ways.
When his studies were over, Hynde Horn would go out to hawk and hunt. Often, too, he would wrestle and tilt with his companions, so that in days to come he would be able to take his place in battle and in tournament.
But one day King Alymer heard the young prince's voice as he sang. So pure, so sweet rang the voice that the king said to himself, 'Hynde Horn shall be trained by the best harpist in our land.'