They were laden with things for the journey given by the prioress, and with what they had saved from Matelgar's hall, though that was little enough.
Wulfhere would fain have made the collier ride one of these spare horses; but the strange man had refused, saying that his own legs he could trust, but not those of a four-footed beast.
It was seven in the bright May morning when Dane and Saxon met on Combwich Hill.

It was midday when I met Wulfhere at the nunnery, and now it was three hours and more past.

But I thought there was yet light enough left for us to find our way across Sedgemoor, and lodge that night in safety in the village near the collier's hut; and so, too, thought Wulfhere when I, thinking that perhaps Alswythe's grief might find its own solace in tears when I was not by her, rode on beside him for a while.
"Once set me on Polden hills, master," said Wulfhere, "I can do well enough, knowing that country from my youth.

But this is a good chance that has sent you your friend the collier." So he spoke, and then I fell to wondering, if it was all chance, as we say, that led my feet in that night of wandering to Dudda's hut, that now I might find help in sorer need than that.

For few there are who could serve as guide over that waste of fen and swamp, and but for him we must needs have kept the main roads, far longer in their way to Glastonbury, as skirting Sedgemoor, and now to be choked with flying people.
Presently Wulfhere asked me if in that village we might find one good house where to lodge the Lady Alswythe.