It was one of the Combwich villeins--a fisher of the name of Elgar.
Now I would speak with him, for he could tell me all I needed; yet I knew not if he had made friends with the Danes, being here and seeming careless.
We lost sight of him among the trees, and the birds flew up, croaking, from them, marking his path as yet towards us; and at last he came from behind a half-burnt hut close to us.

Then I called him by name.
He started, and whipped out a long knife, and in a moment was behind the hut wall again.

So I knew that he was not in league with the enemy, but feared them.

Therefore I rose up and called him again, adding that I was Heregar, and needed him.
Then he came out, staring at me with his knife yet ready.

But when he saw that it was really myself he ran to meet me with a cry of joy and knelt before me, kissing my hands and weeping; so that it was a while before I could ask him anything.