When those who had taken Torfrida into Lindesey to her father had returned, the king sent for Oscar and bade him release Feargus, and so he walked once more a free man; but free or fettered it made little difference to him at that time, for the parting with Torfrida, and the oath drawn from him, had well nigh broken his heart. And much he longed to pick a quarrel with Osbert and his cousin Edgar. Osbert himself was sullen, for that his plan had been thwarted by Duncan’s cunning, and, moreover, he found himself of smaller count with the king. For Penda now showed much favour to Feargus, as if to atone to him somewhat; for the things which Duncan had said in his wrath had opened the king’s eyes and he no longer so fully trusted Osbert. But the thane had a large following, as had his cousin, and was, moreover, a leader of great skill, being, after Feargus, the first captain of all his host, and the king could not throw over so powerful an ally. So Penda and Feargus became friends as ever, but Duncan and his men never forgave the king for his treatment of their chief, though they kept their anger to themselves. At this time Penda went out once more against the Christians, and marched into East Anglia, and there slew its king, Anna, and laid its lands waste, giving its cities to the flames. In all this work Feargus had a hand, and he was grieved thereat. It chanced when the Mercians had returned to their own land word came that Oswy, king of Northumbria, was arming, and that Sigmund and many another king had joined him. So Penda had hardly won home before he made ready to meet them, but, when they were marching forth, there came messengers in great haste, saying that the kings feared to attack him and had turned them back to seek their own lands. So the fame of Penda reached through all the breadth of the land, and his rule was felt even as far to the south as London. So there was peace, and Feargus, finding his work done, dwelt more upon the memory of Torfrida, till one day as he was riding the desire to see her came so strongly upon him that for a moment he wavered, and was for starting off there and then to seek her, but he minded him of his oath to Penda. And he wrung his hands in despair, and once more set aside the thought, but a great gloom sat still upon him so that he was no longer bright or merry, but walked ever like one in trouble. They were staying at that time at Nottingham, and one night he arose and donned his minstrel’s garb and took down his harp, and said he—