But Laxus, with sad and serious brow, stood beside him and said, "My lord, forget not that you are here the vicar and legate of the King. Let the crown upon your head put perils in your thoughts, so as you may harken peaceably to them that are willing to lesson you with sound and sage advice. If we take order to-night to march by Switchwater, we may very well shut back this danger and stifle it ere it wax to too much bigness. If o' the contrary we suffer them to enter into these western parts, like enough without let or stay they will overrun the whole country."

Corinius rolled his eye upon him. "Can nothing," he said, "prescribe unto thee obedience? Look to thine own charge. Is the fleet in proper trim? For there's the strength, ease, and anchor of our power, whether for victualling, or to shift our weight against 'em which way we choose, or to give us sure asylum if it were come to that. What ails thee? Have we not these four months desired nought better than that these Demons should take heart to strike a field with us? If it be true that Juss himself and Brandoch Daha have thrown down the castles and strengths which I had i' the east and move with an army against us, why then I have them in the forge already, and shall now bring them to the hammer. And be satisfied, I'll choose mine own ground to fight them."

"There's yet matter for haste in this," said Laxus. "A day's march, and we oppose 'em not, will bring them before Krothering."

"That," answered Corinius, "jumpeth pat with mine own design. I'll not go a league to bar their way, but receive 'em here where the ground lieth most favourable to meet an enemy. Which advantage I'll employ to the greatest stretch of service, standing on Krothering Side, resting my flank against the mountain. The fleet shall ride in Aurwath haven."

Laxus stroked his beard and was silent a minute, considering this. Then he looked up and said, "This is sound generalship, I may not gainsay it."

"It is a purpose, my lord," said Corinius, "I have long had in myself, stored by for the event. Let me alone, therefore, to do that my right is. There's this good in it, too, as it befalleth: 'twill suffer that dive-dapper to behold his home again afore I kill him. A shall find it a sight for sore eyes, I think, after my tending on't."

The third day after these doings, the farmer at Holt stood in his porch that opened westward on Tivarandardale. An old man was he, crooked like a mountain thorn. But a bright black eye he had, and the hair curled crisp yet above his brow. It was late afternoon and the sky overcast. Tousle-haired sheep-dogs slept before the door. Swallows gathered in the sky. Near to him sat a damosel, dainty as a meadow-pipit, lithe as an antelope; and she was grinding grain in a hand-mill, singing the while:

Grind, mill, grind.

Corinius grinds us all;

Kinging it in widowed Krothering.

The old man was furbishing a shield and morion-cap, and other tackle of war lay at his feet.

"I wonder thou wilt still be busy with thy tackle, O my father," said she, looking up from her singing and grinding. "If ill tide ill again what should an old man do but grieve and be silent?"

"There shall be time for that hereafter," said the old man. "But a little while is hand fain of blow."

"They'll be for firing the roof-tree, likely, if they come back," said she, still grinding.

"Thou'rt a disobedient lass. If thou'dst but flit as I bade thee to the shiel-house up the dale, I'd force not a bean for their burnings."

"Let it burn," said she, "if he be taken. What avail then for thee or for me to be a-tarrying? Thou that art an old man and full of good days, and I that will not be left so."

A great dog awoke beside her and shook himself, then drew near and laid his nose in her lap, looking up at her with kind solemn eyes.

The old man said, "Thou'rt a disobedient lass, and but for thee, come sword, come fire, not a straw care I; knowing it shall be but a passing storm, now that my Lord is home again."

"They took the land from Lord Spitfire," said she.

"Ay, hinny," said the old man, "and thou shalt see my Lord shall take it back again."

"Ay?" said she. And still she ground and still she sang:

Grind, mill, grind.

Corinius grinds us all.

After a time, "Hist!" said the old man, "was not that a horsetread i' the lane? Get thee within-doors till I know if all be friendly." And he stooped painfully to take up his weapon. Woefully it shook in his feeble hand.

But she, as one that knew the step, heeding nought else, leapt up with face first red then pale then flushed again, and ran to the gate of the garth. And the sheepdogs bounded before her. There in the gate she was met with a young man riding a weary horse. He was garbed like a soldier, and horse and man were so bedraggled with mire and dust and all manner of defilement they were a sorry sight to see, and so jaded both that scarce it seemed they had might to journey another furlong. They halted within the gate, and all those dogs jumped up upon them, whining and barking for joy.

Ere the soldier was well down from the saddle he had a sweet armful. "Softly, my heart," said he, "my shoulder's somewhat raw. Nay, 'tis nought to speak on. I've brought thee all my limbs home."

"Was there a battle?" said the old man.

"Was there a battle, father?" cried he. "I'll tell thee, Krothering Side is thicker with dead men slain than our garth with sheep i' the shearing time."

"Alack and alack, 'tis a most horrid wound, dear," said the girl. "Go in, and I'll wash it and lay to it millefoil pounded with honey; 'tis most sovran against pain and loss of blood, and drieth up the lips of the wound and maketh whole thou'dst no credit how soon. Thou hast bled over-much, thou foolish one. And how couldst thou thrive without thy wife to tend thee?"

The farmer put an arm about him, saying, "Was the field ours, lad?"

"I'll tell you all orderly, old man," answered he, "but I must stable him first," and the horse nuzzled his breast. "And ye must ballast me first. God shield us, 'tis not a tale for an empty man to tell."

"'Las, father," said the damosel, "have we not one sweet sippet i' the mouth, that we hold him here once more? And, sweet or sour, let him take his time to fetch us the next."

So they washed his hurt and laid kindly herbs thereto, and bound it with clean linen, and put fresh raiment upon him, and made him sit on the bench without the porch and gave him to eat and drink: cakes of barley meal and dark heather-honey, and rough white wine of Tivarandardale. The dogs lay close about him as if there was warmth there and safety whereas he was. His young wife held his hand in hers, as if that were enough if it should last for aye. And that old man, eating down his impatience like a schoolboy chafing for the bell, fingered his partisan with trembling hand.

"Thou hadst the word I sent thee, father, after the fight below Galing?"

"Ay. 'Twas good."

"There was a council held that night," said the soldier. "All the great men together in the high hall in Galing, so as it was a heaven to see. I was one of their cupbearers, 'cause I'd killed the standard- bearer of the Witches, in that same battle below Galing. Methought 'twas no great thing I did; till after the battle, look you, my Lord's self standing beside me; and saith he, 'Arnod' (ay, by my name, father), 'Arnod,' a saith, 'thou'st done down the pennon o' Witchland that 'gainst our freedom streamed so proud. 'Tis thy like shall best stead Demonland i' these dog-days,' saith he. 'Bear my cup to-night, for thine honour.' I would, lass, thou'dst seen his eyes that tide. 'Tis a lord to put marrow in the sword-arm, our Lord.