Once more I minded words of Thorgils--that the knave would
beguile Loki himself with fair words. Yet there was somewhat very
strange in all the looks and words of the man at this time. But I
would not talk longer with him, and I cut his bonds and freed him.
He tried to rise and stretch his cramped limbs, groaning with the
pain of them as he did so. And that grew on him so that of a sudden
he swooned and fell all his length at my feet, and then I found
myself kneeling and chafing the hands of this one who had bound me,
so that he should come round the sooner. At last he opened his
eyes, and I fetched the horn of strong mead that Howel had bidden
his folk hang on my saddle bow when we rode out, and that brought
him to himself again. He sat up on the snow and thanked me humbly.
"Now, what will you do?" I said. "Let me tell you that Thorgils is
after you, and that Howel has set a price on your head, or was
going to do so. And it is better that you cross the sea no more,
for if ever any one of the men of Gerent or Ina catch you your life
will be forfeit."
"I will get me to North Wales or Mercia, Thane, and there will I
live honestly, and that I will swear. Only, I will pray you not to
tell Howel that I am free."
"I am like to tell no man," I answered grimly. "For I should but be
called a soft-hearted fool for my pains.
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