Owen was the king's marshal now, and I was in command of the house-carles, and had been so for a year or more.

It was no very heavy post, nor responsible after all, for Ina's guard was the love of his people, and beyond these warriors from the freemen who served as palace guard and watch, were the athelings of the household, from whose number I had been chosen for this post by right of longest service more than for any other reason, as I think.

I knew all the ins and outs of every house where Ina went, and had nothing fresh to learn in the matter.
Still, if the men under me were few, the post had its own privileges, and was always held to lead to somewhat higher, and I was more than content therewith, for it kept me near Owen and the king, whom I loved next to my foster father.
I do not think that by this time any one knew, save the king, that I was not Owen's own son.

I was wont to call him father always, and I cannot be blamed, for he was foster father and godfather to me, and well did he take the father's place to the orphan whom he had saved.

And I had forgotten Eastdean, save as one keeps a memory of the home where one was a child.