XLVIIIMedrawt came slowly back to life among the rude folk in the hollow. But he was not the same man as had followed Ambrosius to the west. And now his name was Brock, the Badger, because of the streak of white that ran across his head. Brock was simple-minded. His weak voice and slobbering words made communication with him difficult. His thin head shook from side to side as he sat. Brock looked like a very old man. He was not yet thirty-five.
Brock’s left arm was dead and had withered away to the size of a stick through the summer. Mamag had feared that he might catch it on a bough and tear it off. Then he would bleed to death again. So she had made him a little hide cradle for it and this kept it close to his body. He wore his arm under a tight short-coat, and those who saw him for the
