There were but six men of ours in the house behind Owen.
Then came Erpwald, leaning, sorely wounded, on one of his men, and
Owen spoke to him.
"You have wrought enough harm, Erpwald, for this once. Let the rest
of the household go in peace."
"Harm?" groaned the heathen. "Whose fault is it? How could I think
that the fool would have resisted?"
"As there are fifty men in the yard at this moment, it seems that
you were sure of it," answered Owen in a still voice. "If you knew
it not before, now at least you know that a Christian thinks his
faith worth dying for."
Now, whether it was his wound, or whether he saw that he had gone
too far, Erpwald bethought himself, and seemed minded to make
terms.
"I wish to slay no more," he said. "Yield yourselves quietly, and
no harm shall come to you."
"Let them not go, Thane," said one of his men, "else will they be
off to Ina, and there will be trouble. You mind what you promised
us."
Now, Owen heard this, and the words told him that he was right in
thinking that there was more than heathenry in the affair. It
seemed to him that the first thing was to save me, and that if he
could do that in any way nought else mattered much. It was plain
that no man was to be left to bring Ina on the priest for his ill
deeds.
"If that is all the trouble now," he said, therefore, "as we are in
your power you can make us promise what you like.
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