So Feargus stayed behind with king Penda, and soon his name became known through all the land. Though he was yet ungrown, men looked upon him as a man, for so was he limbed; and such was he for hardihood and cunning with all weapons that he soon excelled all the captains of the king. In stature he towered above his fellows, and his strength was like that of two men. He sought no fight nor feared any, yet his enemies were adread of him; but not less loved was he of his friends, and his manners were so mild, withal, that the poorest might speak with him familiarly. Besides Feargus, were other captains of Penda, chief among whom were his sons Peada and Wulfere; and Osbert, son to the king of the North English,[1] with his brothers Godwine, Thorkill, and Tosti and his cousin Edgar. These were rich and great, and there were also many kings and nobles gathered about the city of Tamworth, the chief town of Mercia. Of these was one Sigmund, king of the Lindiswaras, who, with his daughter Torfrida, was much about the hall of Penda. So Feargus dwelt among the Mercians and they fought many battles, and great was their gain, and the cause of the Christians waned before them. But gradually the spirit of the new faith fell upon its enemies and even Sigmund, the chief friend of Penda, drifted slowly over, and with him went his daughter Torfrida. So that when Penda made war on the Christian king of the East Anglians, Sigmund no longer followed him and he was wrath. Now we have seen that Torfrida had been much about the hall of Penda, for the old warrior loved the little maiden, and felt his hearth brighter for her presence; but when Sigmund withheld from Penda in his war on king Anna of East Anglia, Torfrida was denied king Penda’s halls and great sorrow fell upon Feargus. For the youth now learned that he loved the damsel, now when he dare no longer make it known to Penda or to herself; for the king had said that he must not enter Sigmund’s land; so Feargus went forth to the fight heavy-hearted. And when they wended homeward after harrying and burning the lands of the Christians he sighed for Torfrida; and so one night he mounted his horse in secret and, taking a clarsach, or small harp, and a minstrel’s cloak, rode away eastward, and still rode through the next day until he won Sigmund’s land. Being dressed as a minstrel no one heeded him, for minstrels were held in great honour amongst the English as amongst the Albanich, and as he rode he made a little song. He entered the town of Lindum, which was set on a high hill, and sought out the king’s halls, and there in the garden beheld Torfrida walking to and fro with head downcast and greeting,[2] and ever and anon wringing her small hands. She was as fair as an April morning and not less fresh and fragrant; like a golden river her hair fell over her white throat and shoulders to her waist; deep blue were her eyes and her forehead low and straight and square; pink cheeks she had, and parted lips—fit guardians