One by one I knew their faces, though years of pain had marked them sorely.

But none knew me at first, though doubtless they would do so if I called to them as I had called to Brand the thrall.
Now was busy setting of watches and ordering of outposts, and Olaf went with me to the top of our hill and there set a strong post of our men, for there could be no better place for a camp either for rest or defence, and the people told him that every Dane in the countryside had gone to Colchester, where they thought to be attacked.
Now Brand the thrall had followed us to the hilltop, and while I sat and looked at the ruins of my home he left me and spoke to a group of countrymen who looked on at the warriors.

There was one among this group whose face drew me, for I seemed to think that I ought to know him, though I could not say who he was.

He looked like a poor franklin in his rough brown jerkin and leather-gartered hose, and broad hat, and he bore no weapon but a short seax in his belt, and a quarterstaff, and there was nought about him to claim notice.

But I was watching for old friends of mine with a full heart, and scanned the face of each one that came near.
Then it seemed that the others spoke to this man with a sort of reverence, and presently one bared his head before him.