Wise
was our father Grim, and I mind how he seemed always to be careful of
him in every way, and good reason must he have had not to say what he
knew. We will not ask aught until the time of which Arngeir knows has
come. Nor can we say aught to Havelok, though he is troubled, for we
know nothing. As for the dream, that is part of it all, and it is a
portent, as I think."
"Did I know the man who could read it, I would go to him and tell him it."
"There is one man who can read dreams well," Withelm answered, flushing
a little, "but I do not know if you would care to seek him. I stayed
with him last night, and he is on his way even now to Lincoln, driven by
the famine. I mean the old British priest David, who has his little hut
and chapel in the Cabourn woods. His people have no more to give him."
I knew that Withelm thought much of this old man of late, and I was not
surprised to hear him speak of him now. All knew his wisdom, and the
marsh folk were wont to seek him when they were in any trouble or
difficulty. But I did not care to go to him, for he seemed to belong to
the thralls, as one might say.
"Well, if he comes here, no doubt you will know where to find him if we
need him," I said. "Bide with us for a few days at least, for here is
plenty, and there is much going on."
So we went into the town, and then to the palace, and found Havelok, and
after that I had to go to the gate on guard.
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