The juggler advanced and laying down his sword and his spear, symbols of the free, took up the bill and the goad, the implements of slavery, and falling on his knees placed his head under the hand of the gerefa. “Oh!” cried Egwina pityingly, her eyes full of tears. “A theowe! Nay, granther, it must not be! Prithee, give to the reeve the weregeld. I would not that he be made a wite through us. Is he not a gleeman?” “True;” answered Wulfhere, “and a Saxon also. It is just. He hath committed a crime against the doom of the land; according to the doom let him be judged. Come, child, put on thy ring again, and let us be going. Too long have we tarried already with the good monks. The Wind month cometh on apace, and ere it wanes, I would be in Alfred’s vill. Come!” He arose as he spake, but, moved by an irresistible impulse, Egwina sprang to the side of Ælfric. “Sorry am I and grieved,” she said, gently laying her hand on his arm, “that we have brought thee to this pass. Take heart! It may be that grandfather will let me have some of the gifts, and if so I will send them to thee to pay thy were. We knew not in the market that thou hadst received no gifts.” But Ælfric shook her hand from his arm roughly, and turned on her with hate in his eyes. “Thinkest thou that thy father alone could have taken them from me? No; it is thou that art to blame! Had it not been for thy fair face Ælfric would have received his gifts. Wulfhere is old! No longer hath he power to charm by his harp and voice, so he uses thy beauty to drive a better man from the field. Wulfhere did it not! It is thou who hath done this!” Egwina shrank back affrighted. Wulfhere strode forward, his face white with passion. “What! Tauntest thou a girl? It is best for thy weal an thou art a theow else Wulfhere would make thee pay thy weregeld twice over. Wulfhere may have lost his power as harper, but strong yet is his right arm and mighty its stroke.” “Marry, son,” interposed the abbot. “Be not wroth with such as he! Thou demeanest thyself.” “True;” said the harper recovering himself, “what hath Wulfhere to do with a niddering?” At that term of reproach which no Saxon could hear unmoved, Ælfric sprang forward, his face convulsed with rage, his hand upraised. The gerefa and the abbot seized him before the blow fell. “Niddering?” he shrieked. “Ælfric niddering! As ye be Saxons let me at him!” But they would not, and, as they led him away, he called back in a loud voice: “By all the saints, I swear that Ælfric shall be revenged. As I am now so shall ye be! Look to yourselves, Wulfhere, and thou, daughter of Wulfhere! For every hour spent as theow, ye shall have double. For every task assigned, two shall be your portion. The rod and the lash shall not be wanting. I swear it! Lead on; I have spoken!” Egwina paled and trembled at the words, but the old man laughed.