The cows in the meadow below the abbey grazed tails to the east and three geese flew low overhead. Weather-wise it bode ill. The Saxons, resentful at being led by a Briton, disturbed Begiloc too. No doubt to win respect he must prove his worth in combat. The journey, skirting marshland, fording the river toward Corf, proceeded as dull as the day. Clouds scudded darker and the breeze had teeth like a wolf. He worried that it would freshen into wind but the weather held and the cart kept a decent pace on the dry ground while the nuns and monks bore the march in high spirits, singing psalms and chanting prayers along the deserted road. At the mill on the Stour, Begiloc calculated they had travelled more than a league, about a third of the way. Refreshed, they should reach the priory well befo
