"Now I am going to try to see our poor ladies," he said. "We must learn what they will do, for if they will go homeward, we are the only men who can ride with them. I know that you would fain go home, but I will ask you to help me in this. Indeed, it is a work of charity." "Of course I will, father," I answered; "I am at your service and theirs, till you need me no longer. My folk do not so much as know that I am likely to be in England, let alone on my way to them." "Why, then, your homecoming will be none the less joyful for you, good friend. But I pray you have a care of yourselves, both of you, awhile." Now we went back through the church, and so passed into our lodging by the door which was between the two parts of the building of which I have spoken already. The priest had somewhat to take with him, book or beads or the like, and I would fain rest awhile after that night of terrible unrest. "Go to breakfast in the hall," said Selred, "and there I will come to you." It was somewhat dark in the outer room, and darker yet in the little chambers. Selred had to grope awhile before he found what he wanted; then Erling opened the outer door for him, and he went his way, and I would have the door left open after him for more light. Then I went to my own chamber, sliding back its door and speaking to Erling at the same time, so that I had my head a little turned aside. Whereby, before I had time to hear more than a sudden scuffle within the dark chamber, out of it leaped a man upon me, sending me spinning against the opposite wall with a blow on the chest which took the breath from me for the moment, and then smiting Erling with a sort of back-handed blow as he passed him; but the Dane saw him in time, and set out his foot, and the man fell headlong over it. His head struck the doorpost with a great thud, and there he lay motionless, while something flew from his hand across the floor, rattling as it went. It was the hilt of a knife of some sort. Erling shut the outer door in haste, and then helped me to rise, asking me if I were hurt. "No," I answered. "Ho, but what is that?" Out of my tunic as I straightened myself there fell a gleaming blade, and I picked it up. It was half of a Welsh knife, keen and pointed, which had broken on my mail shirt, leaving only a long slit in my tunic, and maybe a black bruise to come presently on the skin where the dint fell. "I owe life to you, Erling," I said. "And I laughed at the thought of wearing the mail, and well-nigh did not put it on. But he smote you; has he harmed you?" "The mail saved me also," he said, "for the knife broke on it; otherwise--No, master, I am not hurt; not so much as a cut tunic. I wonder if there are more of this sort in these dens?" I drew my sword, and we looked cautiously into the chamber, and then into Sighard's, but there was no one there. This man had been alone, and he had fared badly. He lay yet as he had fallen, breathing heavily.