"Are you hurt badly, Hrut?" Cormac was at his side, striving to undo the Dane's rent corselet so that he might staunch the flow of blood. But the carle pushed him away.
"A scratch," he said thickly. "I've broken my sword-let us haste."
Cormac cast a doubtful look at his companion, then turned and hurried on in the direction they had been following. Seeing that Hrut followed with apparent ease, and hearing the baying of the hounds grow nearer, Cormac increased his gait until the two were running fleetly through the midnight forest. At length they heard the lapping of the sea, and even as Hrut's breathing grew heavy and labored they emerged upon a steep rocky shore, where the trees overhung the water. To the north, jutting out into the sea could be seen the vague bulk of the promontory behind which lay the Raven. Three miles of rugged coast lay between the promontory and the bay of Ara. Cormac and Hrut were at a point a little over halfway between, and slightly nearer the promontory than the bay.
"We swim. from here," growled Cormac, "and it's a long swim to Wulfhere's ship, around the end of the promontory for the cliffs are too steep to climb on this side-but we can make it and the hounds can't follow our tracks in the water-what in the name of gods-!"
Hrut had reeled and pitched headlong down the steep bank, his hands trailing in the water. Cormac reached him instantly and turned him on his back; but the Dane's fierce face was set in death. Cormac tore open his corselet and felt beneath it for an instant, then withdrew his hand and swore in amazement at the vitality that had enabled the carle to run for nearly half a mile with that terrible wound beneath his heart.