So I said, but as I looked at her I thought what a prison the nunnery would be to such a maiden as this. Yet it was all that could be done. "That will be peaceful," she said, but the tears seemed close at hand. Now one of the men spoke to the other, looking back over his shoulder at him, and then when he was answered he turned to me. "Master," he said, "tide serves ill for Selsea, and it will be easy for us to go straight up the haven to Bosham. The flood tide is strong in with us. May we do so?" "Is there any nunnery there?" I asked. "Why, yes, master--a little one." There too was Wulfnoth's great house, where I should be welcome, as I knew. So I asked the sisters if this would suit them. "One place is as another to us," they replied. So we went on up the haven, and it was a long pull, so that it was late in the afternoon when we came in sight of the town. Now I had said no more to Uldra about ourselves--save for a few words concerning sea and tides and the like--but had tried to cheer her, and myself also, by speaking of how Cnut would treat the queen--namely, that it was most likely to be in high honour, lest the duke should fall on him. But as we sighted our journey's end, I bethought myself. "Lady," I said, "is there aught that I can do for you in sending messages to your folk? There will be chapmen and the like going Londonwards shortly, when the siege is over." "I have no friends there," she said. "You shall bid me do what you will for you when I am free to go to our king again," said I. "There will be some who would know where you are and how you fare." She thanked me, saying nothing but that when the time came, if I yet remembered her and would ask her, she might give me messages for those at Peterborough whom she had left, and I promised to do all I could in bearing them. "I cannot forget the maiden who saved my life," I said. She made no answer, and the boat shot alongside the little wharf, where a crowd was gathering quickly to see us come. Many questions there were when Bertric's men were known. There was a kindly-looking monk among his people, and I went to him, and brought him to the nuns where they and Uldra stood apart by themselves, while the two men were busy with their folk. "Pax vobiscum," he said; "you shall be welcome, my sisters, at our little nunnery for tonight. Then will we ask the bishop on the morrow what you had better do." Then they were eager to go with him, and I bade them farewell, bowing, and they turned away. They might say nothing, according to their rule, Elfric told me, save in need. Neither did Uldra speak, though no vow of silence was on her, but she went with them for a little way. I was rather hurt at this, and began to go back to the boat, wondering that she had no word of farewell. "Redwald--thane," came a gentle call in her voice, and I turned sharply. She was close to me, and the sisters were waiting for her twenty paces or so away.