So Feargus paused and stood aside at her bidding but sulkily, and Osbert stepped in. “What hath brought about this change in thy watch-dog, or I might say watch-tower, so tall of stature is he?” said Osbert. “Of a surety ’tis a dangerous and unmannerly brute, and sorely did my hand itch to thrash him.” “Methought thou hadst given him enough of thrashing to last thee: as thou shouldst know the dog hath long teeth. And I warn thee that if but a hair of his beard be harmed I shall know that thy hand, or more like the hands of thy men, have been at the doing of it, and never again shalt thou sit aside the ingle in hall of mine. This much will I do for my mother’s kin.” And so they parted, and Feargus lay still outside the door, and Torfrida feared for him, dreading the villainy of Osbert, for sore had he pressed his suit that day, and she had repelled him roughly, till he left her in anger. So when her maidens slept she arose, and went and looked forth the window that stood near by the door, watching the watcher. And the night following she did the same. And she sent a messenger to her brother Edwy, who, back from foreign lands, was through the evil counsel of Osbert kept in a far-off town on the border of Sigmund’s land, where little life stirred, and there were none to befriend him. And when the messenger gave him the summons he set forth to meet Torfrida in the Sherwood near to the hamlet of Mansfield. And Torfrida arose early before the day broke and took horse, and with Feargus rode to meet her brother. But Osbert had set a spy to watch her, and he followed them clad in green from head to foot that he might hardly be told from the green leaves. And he lurked ever in their footsteps, but kept well covered, behind bush and bracken, for he well knew the sureness of the arrows which flew from the great bow of the Pict. He watched the two riding side by side, and Feargus he heard talking, now in English, now in Gaelic, as madman never talked before. Now their horses drew together, and the Pict put his arm around her, and so they rode. At length, about noon, they reached a narrow glen where they drew up, and he lifted her aground and took her in his arms, kissing her and she him. Then they sat side by side on a fallen tree, holding sweet converse, until the spy heard the leaves rustle and up dashed young Edwy, his horse covered with foam. He drew up so suddenly that the beast went back upon its haunches. Quickly he sprang aground and threw his arms about the madman, and the two wept together for very gladness. And then they held counsel. “And,” said Edwy, “noble brother and sister, I fear that much ill is before ye both, and before me and my father’s house, for in the nest is the gowk that will turn out the young sparrows should it be thwarted of its prey, which is thyself, sweet sister, a little, and the kingdom of the Lindiswaras more.” “Sorely thou comfortest me, Edwy,” said Torfrida.