And to that place Raud led us, none staying him, yet all wondering.
When he came there he strode over the burnt timber until he came to the font, and there, under the graven cross, he set down his burden very gently, and stood up, looking in my face, and saying: "Here will I leave the worship of Odin and cleave to that faith for which Eadmund the King died, and for which you, Wulfric, were willing to die both in Jutland and here by Eadmund's side.

Will any forbid me ?" Then I knew that the man was in such earnest, that none, save he perilled his own soul, might hold him back, and I took his hand and spoke to the elder monk, saying: "I will answer for this man, father, as to his will.

If he knows enough of our faith, I pray you baptize him straightway." There was rain water in the font, sparkling and clear, and without any delay or doubt the good man came forward and stood thereby, while I yet held Raud's hand as his godfather.
"What know you of our faith, my son ?" said the monk in his gentle voice.
Now of his own accord Raud faced to the eastward, and clasping his hands before him, spoke the words of the Creed, slowly and haltingly maybe, but with knowledge thereof, and all that little company, standing hushed until he ended, answered "Amen" with one voice.
Then again, untaught by us he turned to the west, where the sun was even now sinking, and lifting his right hand very solemnly he put away from him the false gods of his forefathers, and the golden sunlight made his face very glorious, as I thought.
"It is well, my son," said the old monk.
So he was baptized, and I gave him the new name of Cyneward {xxii}, for the memory of Eadmund the King and what he did for him in saving him from torture as best he might.

And surely he was the first fruit of the martyrdom of him whose head he had borne.
Then when all was done he took up his burden again, softly and reverently, saying: "Life I took, and life has been given me.

This is not the old way of life for life, but it is better." So he gave back the head to the monks, and they, wondering at him, but greatly rejoicing, took it, and stood awhile pondering where we might safely bestow it.
Then came one of the villagers, telling of a stone-walled chamber that had been a well in days long gone by, hard by the church porch.