"Oh, no," said Eodan softly. "I thank all the high gods that we meet again. For you killed my Hwicca."
"I did?" cried Flavius. His skin was chalky. "Now the gods would shatter you, did they exist!"
"Your sword struck her down," said Eodan.
"After you flung her upon it!" shrieked Flavius. "You are her murderer and none but you! I have heard enough of your filth!"
He whirled and almost ran. Phryne, small and solitary at the gate, flinched aside from him. He vanished.
Eodan stood for a while staring after the Roman. It came to him finally, like a voice from elsewhere: So that is why he must hate me. He also loved Hwicca, in his own way. Indeed the soul of man is a forest at night.
He thought coldly, It is well. Now I can be certain that Flavius will never depart my track until one of us has died.
Phryne joined him as he left. As they went mutely from the castle, Tjorr rushed up to them. "There are Romans come!" he bawled. "A dozen Roman soldiers in camp.... I'd swear I saw Flavius himself go by.... Phryne! You are here!"
"Have you any further information?" asked the girl sweetly.
They walked toward Eodan's tent, and she explained to the Alan what had happened. Tjorr gripped his hammer. "By the thunder," he said, "it was well done of you! But what help did you think you could give us?"