But far more exhausted was the other combatant, yet scarcely so much by exertion as by fear, of which he still bore the evident traces. After a few moments he broke the silence, and his words seemed incoherent. “Where is my horse? the beast threw me—I wish the wolves may get him—I fear you are hurt; not much, I hope; where can those serfs be? Fine vassals, to desert their master in peril. I’ll have them hung. But, by St. Cuthbert, you are all covered with blood.” “’Tis that of the wolf, then, for I have scarcely a scratch: one of the beast’s claws ripped up my sleeve, and the skin with it; that was all he could do before he felt the cold steel between his ribs.” “Not a moment too soon, or he would have killed you before we could interfere; why, as you rolled together, I could hardly see which was boy and which was wolf. But where’s my horse? Did you see a white horse rush past you?” “We heard a rush as of some wild animal.” “Wild enough. I was riding through the glade, and my attendants were on in front, when we stumbled on this wolf, crouched under that thicket. The horse started so violently that it threw me almost upon the monster you have killed.” Here the speaker paused, and blew impatient blasts upon a horn which had been slung round his neck. They were soon answered, and some attendants, dressed in semi-hunting costume, made their appearance with haste and confusion, which showed their apprehensions. “Guthred! Eadmer! Why did you get so far away from me? I might have been killed. Look at this monstrous wolf; why, its teeth are dreadful. It broke my spear, and would have had me down, but for this—this youth. “I forgot, I haven’t asked to whom I am indebted. Aren’t you two brothers?” “Our father is the Thane of Æscendune. His hall is not far from here. Will you not go home with us? We have plenty of room for you and yours.” “To be sure I will. Æscendune? I have heard the name: I can’t remember where. Have you horses?” “No; we were hunting on foot, and expecting to let fly our shafts at some deer. May I ask, in return, the name of our guest?” Before the youth could answer, one of the attendants strode forward, and with an air of importance replied, “You are about to receive the honour of a visit from the future lord of Britain, Prince Edwy.” “Keep your lips closed till I give you leave to open them, Guthred. You may leave me to announce myself. “I shall be only too glad to go with you both; and these two huntsmen deserve to be left in the forest to the mercy of your wolves.” Somewhat startled to find that they had saved the future Basileus or King of Britain—the hope of the royal line of Cerdic —the brothers led their guest through the darkening forest until the distant light of a clearing appeared in the west, and they emerged from the shadow of the trees upon the brow of a gentle hill.