Then spoke little Withelm, ever thoughtful, and now not at all afraid.

"If Freya wants not a sailor's wife who is willing to fight the waves with Grim, my father, it will be strange."

My mother was wont to say that this saying of the child's did much to cheer her at that time, but there is little place for a woman in the old faiths. So she smiled at him, and that made him bold to speak of what he had surely been thinking since the storm began.

"I suppose that Aegir is wroth because we made no sacrifice to him before we set sail. I think that I would cast the altar stones to him, that he may know that we meant to do so."

This sounds a child's thought only, and so it was; but it set my father thinking, and in the end helped us out of trouble.

"I have heard," my father said, "that men in our case have thrown overboard the high-seat pillars, and have followed them to shore safely. We have none, but the stones are more sacred yet. Overboard they shall go, and as the boat with them goes through the surf we may learn somewhat."

With that he hastened on deck, and told the men what he would do; and they thought it a good plan, as maybe they would have deemed anything that seemed to call for help from the strong ones of the sea. So they got the boat ready to launch over the quarter, and the four stones, being uncovered since the Vikings took our cargo, were easily got on deck, and they were placed in the bottom of the boat, and steadied there with coils of fallen rigging, so that they could not shift. They were just a fair load for the boat. Then my father cried for help to the Asir, bidding Aegir take the altar as full sacrifice; and when we had done so we waited for a chance as a long wave foamed past us, and launched the boat fairly on its back, so that she seemed to fly from our hands, and was far astern in a moment.

Now we looked to see her make straight for the breakers, lift on the first of them, and then capsize. That first line was not a quarter of a mile from us now.

But she never reached them. She plunged away at first, heading right for the surf, and then went steadily westward, and up the shore line outside it, until she was lost to sight among the wild waves, for she was very low in the water.

"Cheer up, men," my father said, as he saw that; "we are not ashore yet, nor will be so long as the tide takes that current along shore. We shall stop dragging directly."

And so it was, for when the ship slowly came to the place where the boat had changed her course, the anchor held once more for a while until the gathering strength of the tide forced it to drag again. Now, however, it was not toward the shore that we drifted, but up the Humber, as the boat had gone; and as we went the sea became less heavy, for we were getting into the lee of the Spurn headland.

Soon the clouds began to break, flying wildly overhead with patches of blue sky and passing sunshine in between them that gladdened us. The wind worked round to the eastward at the same time, and we knew that the end of the gale had come. But, blowing as it did right into the mouth of the river, the sea became more angry, and it would be worse yet when the tide set again outwards. Already we had shipped more water than was good, and we might not stand much more. It seemed best, therefore, to my father that we should try to run as far up the Humber as we might while we had the chance, for the current that held us safe might change as tide altered in force and depth.

So we buoyed the cable, not being able to get the anchor in this sea, and then stepped the yard in the mast's place, and hoisted the peak of the sail corner-wise as best we might; and that was enough to heel us almost gunwale under as the cable was slipped and the ship headed about up the river mouth. We shipped one or two more heavy seas as she paid off before the wind, but we were on the watch for them, and no harm was done.

After that the worst was past, for every mile we flew over brought us into safer waters; and now we began to wonder where the boat with its strange cargo had gone, and we looked out for her along the shore as we sailed, and at last saw her, though it was a wonder that we did so.

The tide had set her into a little creek that opened out suddenly, and there Arngeir saw her first, aground on a sandbank, with the lift of each wave that crept into the haven she had found sending her higher on it. And my father cried to us that we had best follow her; and he put the helm over, while we sheeted home and stood by for the shock of grounding.

Then in a few minutes we were in a smother of foam across a little sand bar, and after that in quiet water, and the sorely-tried ship was safe. She took the ground gently enough in the little creek, not ten score paces from where the boat was lying, and we were but an arrow flight from the shore. As the tide rose the ship drifted inward toward it, so that we had to wait only for the ebb that we might go dry shod to the land.

Before that time came there was rest for us all, and we needed it sorely. It was a wonder that none of the children had been hurt in the wild tossing of the ship, but children come safely through things that would be hard on a man. Bruised they were and very hungry, but somehow my mother had managed to steady them on the cabin floor, and they were none the worse, only Havelok slept even yet with a sleep that was too heavy to be broken by the worst of the tossing as he lay in my mother's lap. She could not tell if this heavy sleep was good or not.

Then we saw to the wounded men, and thereafter slept in the sun or in the fore cabin as each chose, leaving Arngeir only on watch. It was possible that the shore folk would be down to the strand soon, seeking for what the waves might have sent them, and the tide must be watched also.

Just before its turn he woke us, for it was needful that we should get a line ashore to prevent the ship from going out with the ebb, and with one I swam ashore. There was not so much as a stump to which to make fast, and so one of the men followed me, and we went to the boat, set the altar stones carefully ashore, then fetched the spare anchor, and moored her with that in a place where the water seemed deep to the bank.

It was a bad place. For when the tide fell, which it did very fast, we found that we had put her on a ledge. Presently therefore, and while we were trying to bail out the water that was in her, the ship took the ground aft, and we could not move her before the worst happened. Swiftly the tide left her, and her long keel bent and twisted, and her planks gaped with the strain of her own weight, all the greater for the water yet in her that flowed to the hanging bows. The good ship might sail no more. Her back was broken.

That was the only time that I have ever seen my father weep. But as the stout timbers cracked and groaned under the strain it seemed to him as if the ship that he loved was calling piteously to him for help that he could not give, and it was too much for him. The gale that was yet raging overhead and the sea that was still terrible in the wide waters of the river had been things that had not moved him, for that the ship should break up in a last struggle with them was, as it were, a fitting end for her. But that by his fault here in the hardly-won haven she should meet her end was not to be borne, and he turned away from us and wept.

Then came my mother and set her hand on his shoulder and spoke softly to him with wise words.

"Husband, but a little while ago it would have been wonderful if there were one of us left alive, or one plank of the ship on another. And now we are all safe and unhurt, and the loss of the ship is the least of ills that might have been."

"Nay, wife," he said; "you cannot understand."

"Then it is woe for the—for the one who is with us. But how had it been if you had seen Hodulf and his men round our house, and all the children slain that one might not escape, while on the roof crowed the red cock, and naught was left to us? We have lost less than if we had stayed for that, and we have gained what we sought, even safety. See, to the shore have come the ancient holy things of our house, and that not by your guidance. Surely here shall be the place for us that is best."

"Ay, wife; you are right in all these things, but it is not for them."

Then she laughed a little, forcing herself to do so, as it seemed.

"Why, then, it is for the ship that I was ever jealous of, for she took you away from me. Now I think that I should be glad that she can do so no more. But I am not, for well I know what the trouble must be, and I would have you think no more of it. The good ship has saved us all, and so her work is done, and well done. Never, if she sailed many a long sea mile with you, would anything be worth telling of her besides this. And the burden of common things would surely be all unmeet for her after what she has borne hither."

"It is well said, Leva, my wife," my father answered.

From that time he was cheerful, and told us how it was certain that we had been brought here for good, seeing that the Norns[7] must have led the stones to the haven, so that this must be the place that we sought.

CHAPTER VI. THE BEGINNING OF GRIMSBY TOWN.

Easily we went ashore when the tide fell, across the spits of sand that ran between the mud banks, and we climbed the low sandhill range that hid the land from us, and saw the place where we should bide. And it might have been worse; for all the level country between us and the hills was fat, green meadow and marsh, on which were many cattle and sheep feeding. Here and there were groves of great trees, hemmed in with the quickset fences that are as good as stockades for defence round the farmsteads of the English folk, and on other patches of rising ground were the huts of thralls or herdsmen, and across the wide meadows glittered and flashed streams and meres, above which the wildfowl that the storm had driven inland wheeled in clouds. All the lower hills seemed to be wooded thickly, and the alder copses that would shelter boar and deer and maybe wolves stretched in some places thence across the marsh. Pleasant and homely seemed all this after long looking at the restless sea.

Then said my father, "Now am I no longer Grim the merchant, and that pride of mine is at an end. But here is a place where Grim the fisher may do well enough, if I am any judge of shore and sea. Here have we haven for the boats, and yonder swim the fish, and inland are the towns that need them. Nor have we seen a sign of a fisher so far as we have come."

Now we had been seen as soon as we stood on the sandhills; and before long the herdsman and thralls began to gather to us, keeping aloof somewhat at first, as if fearing my father's arms. But when we spoke with them we could learn nothing, for they were Welsh marshmen who knew but little of the tongue of their English masters. Serfs they were now in these old fastnesses of theirs to the English folk of the Lindiswaras, who had won their land and called it after their own name, Lindsey.

But before long there rode from one of the farmsteads an Englishman of some rank, who had been sent for, as it would seem, and he came with half a dozen armed housecarls behind him to see what was going on. Him we could understand well enough, for there is not so much difference between our tongue and that of the English; and when he learned our plight he was very kindly. His name was Witlaf Stalling, and he was the great man of these parts, being lord over many a mile of the marsh and upland, and dwelling at his own place, Stallingborough, some five miles to the north and inland hence.

Now it had been in this man's power to seize us and all we had as his own, seeing that we were cast on his shore; but he treated us as guests rather, bidding us shelter in one of his near farmsteads as long as we would, and telling my father to come and speak with him when we had saved what we could from the wreck. He bade the thralls help at that also, so that we had fallen in with a friend, and our troubles were less for his kindness.

We saved what cargo we had left during the next few days, while we dwelt at the farm. Then at the height of the spring tides the ship broke up, for a second gale came before the sea that the last had raised was gone. And then I went with my father to speak with Witlaf the thane at Stallingborough, that we might ask his leave to make our home on the little haven, and there become fishers once more.

That he granted readily, asking many questions about our troubles, for he wondered that one who had owned so good a ship seemed so content to become a mere fisher in a strange land, without thought of making his way home. But all that my father told him was that he had had to fly from the new king of our land, and that he had been a fisher before, so that there was no hardship in the change.

"Friend Grim," said Witlaf when he had heard this, "you are a brave man, as it seems to me, and well may you prosper here, as once before. I will not stand in your way. Now, if you will hold it from me on condition of service in any time of war, to be rendered by yourself and your sons and any men you may hire, I will grant you what land you will along the coast, so that none may question you in anything. Not that the land is worth aught to any but a fisher who needs a place for boats and nets; but if you prosper, others will come to the place, and you shall be master."

One could hardly have sought so much as that, and heartily did we thank the kindly thane, gladly taking the fore shore as he wished. But he said that he thought the gain was on his side, seeing what men he had won.

"Now we must call the place by a name, for it has none," he said, laughing. "Grim's Stead, maybe?"

"Call the place a town at once," answered my father, laughing also. "Grimsby has a good sound to a homeless man."

So Grimsby the place has been from that day forward, and, as I suppose, will be now to the end of time. But for a while there was only the one house that we built of the timbers and planks of our ship by the side of the haven—a good house enough for a fisher and his family, but not what one would look for from the name.

By the time that was built Havelok was himself again, though he had been near to his death. Soon he waxed strong and rosy in the sea winds, and out-went Withelm both in stature and strength. But it seemed that of all that had happened he remembered naught, either of the storm, or of his mother's death, or of the time of Hodulf. My mother thought that the sickness had taken away his memory, and that it might come back in time. But from the day we came to the house on the shore he was content to call Grim and Leva father and mother, and ourselves were his brothers, even as he will hold us even now. Yet my father would never take him with us to the fishing, as was right, seeing who he was and what might lie before him. Nor did he ever ask to go, as we had asked since we were able to climb into the boat as she lay on the shore; and we who knew not who he was, and almost forgot how he came to us, ceased to wonder at this after a while; and it seemed right that he should be the home-stayer, as if there must needs be one in every household.

Nevertheless he was always the foremost in all our sports, loving the weapon play best of all, so that it was no softness that kept him from the sea. I hold that the old saw that says, "What is bred in the bone cometh out in the flesh," is true, and never truer than in the ways of Havelok.

For it is not to be thought that because my father went back perforce to the fisher's calling he forgot that the son of Gunnar Kirkeban should be brought up always in such wise that when the time came he should be ready to go to the slayer of his father, sword in hand, and knowing how to use it. Therefore both Havelok and we were trained always in the craft of the warrior.

Witlaf the thane was right when he said that men would draw to the place if we prospered, and it was not so long before the name that had been a jest at first was so no longer. Truly we had hard times at first, for our one ship's boat was all unfitted for the fishing; but the Humber teemed with fish, and there were stake nets to be set that need no boat. None seemed to care for taking the fish but ourselves, for the English folk had no knowledge of the riches to be won from the sea, and the eels of the river were the best that they ever saw. So they were very ready to buy, and soon the name of Grim the fisher was known far and wide in Lindsey, for my father made great baskets of the willows of the marsh, and carried his burden of fish through the land, alone at first, until we were able to help him, while Arngeir and we minded the nets.

Only two of our men stayed here with us, being fishers and old comrades of my father. The rest he bade find their way home to Denmark to their wives and children, from the Northumbrian coast, or else take service with the king, Ethelwald, who ruled in East Anglia, beyond the Wash, who, being a Dane by descent from the Jutes who took part with Angles and Saxons in winning this new land, was glad to have Danish men for his housecarls. Some went to him, and were well received there, as we knew long afterwards.

The man who had been washed overboard and hauled back at risk of his neck was one of these. His name was Mord, and he would have stayed with us; but my father thought it hard that he should not have some better chance than we could give him here, for it was not easy to live at first. Somewhat of the same kind he said to Arngeir, for he had heard of this king when he had been in the king's new haven in the Wash some time ago. But Arngeir would by no means leave the uncle who had been as a father to him.

Now when we marked out the land that Witlaf gave us, there was a good omen. My father set the four blue altar stones at each corner of the land as the boundaries, saying that thus they would hallow all the place, rather than make an altar again of them here where there was no grove to shelter them, or, indeed, any other spot that was not open, where a holy place might be. And when we measured the distances between them a second time they were greater than at first, which betokens the best of luck to him whose house is to be there. I suppose that they will bide in these places now while Grimsby is a town, for, as every one knows, it is unlucky to move a boundary stone.

Soon my father found a man who had some skill in the shipwright's craft, and brought him to our place from Saltfleet. Then we built as good a boat as one could wish, and, not long after that, another. But my father was careful that none of the Lindsey folk whom he had known should think that this fisher was the Grim whom they had once traded with, lest word should go to Hodulf in any way.

Now we soon hired men to help us, and the fishing throve apace. We carried the fish even to the great city of Lincoln, where Alsi the Lindsey king had his court, though it was thirty miles away. For we had men in the villages on the road who took the great baskets on from one to another, and always Grim and one of us were there on the market day, and men said that never had the town and court seen such fish as Grim's before. Soon, therefore, he was rich, for a fisher; and that was heard of by other fishers from far off, and they drew to Grimsby, so that the town spread, and Witlaf the good thane said that it was a lucky day which drove us to his shore, for he waxed rich with dues that they were willing to pay. We built boats and let them out to these men, so that one might truly say that all the fishery was Grim's.

Then a trading ship put in, hearing of the new haven, and that was a great day for us. But her coming made my father anxious, since Hodulf was likely to seek for news of Grim the merchant from any who had been to England; and hearing at last of him, he would perhaps be down on us, Vikingwise, with fire and sword. But after that traders came and went, and we heard naught of him except we asked for news; for he left us in peace, if he knew that his enemy lived yet. Men said that he was not much loved in Denmark.

So the town grew, and well did we prosper, so that there is naught to be said of any more trouble, which is what my story seems to be made up of so far. Yet we had come well through all at last; and that, I suppose, is what makes the tale of any man worth hearing.

Twelve years went all well thus, and in those years Havelok came to manhood, though not yet to his full strength. What that would be in a few more summers none could tell, for he was already almost a giant in build and power, so that he could lift and carry at once the four great fish baskets, which we bore one at a time when full of fish, easily, and it was he who could get a stranded boat afloat when we could hardly move her between us, though all three of us were strong as we grew up.

Very handsome was Havelok also, and, like many very strong men, very quiet. And all loved him, from the children who played along the water's edge to the oldest dame in the town; for he had a good word for all, and there was not one in the place whom he had not helped at one time or another. More than one there was who owed him life—either his own, or that of a child saved from the water.

Most of all Havelok loved my father; and once, when he was about eighteen, he took it into his head that he was burdensome to him by reason of his great growth. So nothing would satisfy him but that he must go with us to the fishing, though it was against Grim's will somewhat. But he could make no hand at it, seeing that he could pull any two of us round if he took an oar, and being as likely as not to break that moreover. Nor could he bear the quiet of the long waiting at the drift nets, when hour after hour of the night goes by in silence before the herring shoal comes in a river of blue and silver and the buoys sink with its weight; rather would he be at the weapon play with the sons of Witlaf, our friend, who loved him.

But though the fishing was not for him, after a while he would not be idle, saying, when my father tried to persuade him to trouble not at all about our work, that it was no shame for a man to work, but, rather, that he should not do so. So one day he went to the old Welsh basket maker who served us, and bade him make a great basket after his own pattern, the like of which the old man had never so much as thought of.

"Indeed, master," he said, when it was done, "you will never be able to carry so great a load of fish as that will hold."

"Let us see," quoth Havelok, laughing; and with that he put him gently into it, and lifted him into the air, and on to his mighty shoulder, carrying him easily, and setting him down in safety.

The basket maker was cross at first, but none was able to be angry with Havelok long, and he too began to smile.

"It is 'curan' that you are, master," he said; "not even Arthur himself could have done that."

"Many times have I heard your folk call me that. I would learn what it means," said Havelok.

But the old man could hardly find the English word for the name, which means "a wonder," and nothing more. Nevertheless the marsh folk were wont to call their friend "Hablok Curan" in their talk, for a wonder he was to all who knew him.

So he came home with his great basket, and said, "Here sit I by the fire, eating more than my share, and helping to win it not at all. Now will I make amends, for I will go the fisher's rounds through the marshlands with my basket, and I think that I shall do well."

Now my father tried to prevent him doing this, because, as I know now, it was not work for a king's son. But Havelok would not be denied.

"Fat and idle am I, and my muscles need hardening," he said. "Let me go, father, for I was restless at home."

So from that time he went out into the marshland far and wide, and the people grew to know and love him well. Always he came back with his fish sold, and gave money and full account to my father, and mostly the account would end thus:

"Four fish also there were more, but the burden was heavy, and so I even gave them to a certain old dame."

And my mother would say, "It is likely that the burden was lighter for her blessing."

And, truly, if the love of poor folk did help, Havelok's burden weighed naught, great though it was.

Yet we thought little of the blessings of the Welsh folk of the marsh in those days, for they blessed not in the names of the Asir, being sons of the British Christians of long ago, and many, as I think, Christians yet. Witlaf and all the English folk were Odin's men, as we were, having a temple at the place called Thor's Way, among the hills. But we had naught to do with the faith of the thralls, which was not our business. Only Withelm was curious in the matter, and was wont to ask them thereof at times, though at first they feared to tell him anything, seeing how the Saxons and English had treated the Christian folk at their first coming. But that was forgotten now, by the English at least, and times were quiet for these poor folk. There was a wise man, too, of their faith, who lived in the wild hills not far from the city, and they were wont to go to him for advice if they needed it. They said also that the king of Lindsey had once been a Christian, for he was Welsh by birth on his mother's side, and had been so brought up. It is certain that his sister Orwenna, who married Ethelwald of East Anglia, was one, but I have seen Alsi the king at the feasts of the Asir at Thor's Way when Yuletide was kept, so it is not so certain about him. He had many Welsh nobles about him at the court, kinsmen of his mother mostly, so that it did not seem strange, though there is not much love lost between the English and the folk whom they conquered, as one might suppose.

Now, as I have said, none but Withelm thought twice about these things; but in the end the love of the marsh folk was a thing that was needed, and that Withelm had learned somewhat of their faith was the greatest help that could be, as will be seen.

CHAPTER VII. BROTHERHOOD.

True are the words of the Havamal, the song of the wisdom of Odin, which say, "One may know and no other, but all men know if three know."

Therefore for all these years my father told none of us the secret of Havelok's birth; and when Arngeir married my sister Solva he made him take oath that he would not tell what he knew to her, while she, being but a child at the time of the flight, had forgotten how this well-loved brother of hers came to us. But it happened once that Grim was sick, and it seemed likely that he would die, so that this secret weighed on him, and he did not rightly know what to do for the best, Havelok at the time being but seventeen, and the time that he should think of his own place not being yet come. At that time he told Arngeir all that he foresaw, and set things in order, that we three should not be backward when need was.

He called us to him, Havelok not being present, and spoke to us.

"Sons," he said, "well have you all obeyed me all these years, and I think that you will listen to me now, for I must speak to you of Havelok, who came to us as you know. Out of his saving from his foes came our flight here; and I will not find fault with any of the things that happened, for they have turned out well, save that it seems that I may never see the land of my birth again, and at times I weary for it. For me Denmark seems to lie within the four square of the ancient stones; but if you will do my bidding, you and Havelok shall see her again, though how I cannot tell."

Then I could hardly speak for trouble, but Withelm said softly, "As we have been wont to do, father, so it shall be."

"Well shall my word be kept, therefore," Grim said, smiling on us. "Listen, therefore. In the days to come, when time is ripe, Arngeir shall tell you more of Havelok your foster-brother, and there will be signs enough by which he shall know that it is time to speak. And then Havelok will need all the help that you can give him; and as your lord shall you serve him, with both hands, and with life itself if need be. And I seem to see that each of you has his place beside him—Radbard as his strong helper, and Raven as his watchful comrade, and Withelm as his counsellor. For 'Bare is back without brother behind it,' son Radbard and 'Ere one goes out, give heed to the doorways,' son Raven; and 'Wisdom is wanted by him who fares widely' son Withelm. So say the old proverbs, and they are true. No quarreller is Havelok; but if he must fight, that will be no playground. Careful is he; but he has met with no guile as yet, and he trusts all men. Slow to think, if sure, are so mighty frames as his becomes, even when quick wit is needed."

He was silent for a while, and I thought that he had no more to say, and I knew that he had spoken rightly of what each was best fitted for, but he went on once more.

"This is my will, therefore, that to you shall Havelok be as the eldest brother from this time forward, that these places shall not have to come suddenly to you hereafter. Then will you know that I have spoken rightly, though maybe it seems hard to Radbard and Raven now, they being so much older."

Then I said truly that already Havelok was first in our hearts. And that was true, for he was as a king among us—a king who was served by all with loving readiness, and yet one who served all. Maybe that is just what makes a good king when all is said and done.

Then my father bade us carry him out of the house and down to the shore where there was a lonely place in the sandhills, covered with the sweet, short grass that the sheep love; and, while Raven and I bore him, Withelm went and brought Havelok.

"This is well, father," he said gladly. "I had not thought you strong enough to come thus far."

"Maybe it is the last time that I come living out of the house," Grim said; "but there is one thing yet to be done, and it must be done here. See, son Havelok, these are your brothers in all but blood, and they must be that also in the old Danish way."

"Nothing more is needed, father," Havelok said, wondering. "I have no brothers but these of mine, and they could be no more so."

Thereat my father smiled, as well content, but he said that the ancient way must he kept.

"But I am sorely weak," he added. "Fetch hither Arngeir."

It was because of this illness that none of us were at the fishing on that day, and Arngeir was not long in coming. And while we waited for that little while my father was silent, looking ever northward to the land that he had given up for Havelok; and I think that foster-son of his knew it, for he knelt beside him and set his strong arm round him, saying nothing. So Arngeir came with Raven, who went for him, and my father told him what he needed to be done; and Arngeir said that it was well thought of, and went to work with his seax on the smooth turf.

He cut a long strip where it seemed to be toughest, leaving the ends yet fast, and carefully he raised it and stretched it until it would make an arch some three spans high, and so propped it at either end with more turf that it stayed in that position.

Then my father said, "This is the old custom, that they who are of different family should be brothers indeed. Out of one earth should they be made afresh, as it were, that on the face of earth they shall be one. Pass therefore under the arch, beginning with Havelok."

Then, while my father spoke strange and ancient runes, Havelok did as he was bidden, kneeling down and creeping under the uplifted turf; and as I came after him he gave me his hand and raised me, and so with each of the other two. And then, unbidden, Arngeir followed, for he too loved Havelok, and would fain be his brother indeed.

After that my father took a sharp flint knife that he had brought with him, and with it cut Havelok's arm a little, and each of us set his lips to that wound, and afterwards he to the like marks in our right arms, and so the ancient rite was complete.

Yet it had not been needed, as I know, for not even I ever thought of him but as the dearest of brothers, though I minded how he came.

Now after this my father grew stronger, maybe because this was off his mind; but he might never go to sea again, nor even to Lincoln town, for he was not strong enough. What his illness was I do not rightly know, hut I do not think that any one here overlooked him, though it might be that from across the sea Hodulf had power to work him harm. It was said that he had Finnish wizards about his court; but if that was so, he never harmed the one whom he had most to fear—even Havelok. But then I suppose that even a Finn could not harm one for whom great things are in store.

So two years more passed over, and then came the time of which one almost fears to think—the time of the great famine. Slowly it came on the land; but we could see it coming, and the dread of it was fearsome, but for the hope that never quite leaves a man until the end. For first the wheat that was winter sown came not up but in scattered blades here and there, and then ere the spring-sown grain had lain in the land for three weeks it had rotted, and over the rich, ploughed lands seemed to rise a sour smell in the springtime air, when one longs for the sweetness of growing things. And then came drought in April, and all day long the sun shone, or if it were not shining the clouds that hid it were hard and grey and high and still over land and sea.

Then before the marsh folk knew what they were doing, the merchants of Lincoln had bought the stored corn, giving prices that should have told men that it was precious to those who sold as to the buyers; and then the grass failed in the drought, and the farmers were glad to sell the cattle and sheep for what they could gain, rather than see them starve.

Then my father bade us dry and store all the fish we might against the time that he saw was coming, and hard we worked at that. And even as we toiled, from day to day we caught less, for the fish were leaving the shores, and we had to go farther and farther for them, until at last a day came when the boats came home empty, and the women wept at the shore as the men drew them up silently, looking away from those whom they could feed no longer.

That was the worst day, as I think, and it was in high summer. I mind that I went to Stallingborough that day with the last of the fresh fish of yesterday's catch for Witlaf's household, and it was hotter than ever; and in all the orchards hung not one green apple, and even the hardy blackberry briers had no leaves or sign of blossom, and in the dikes the watercress was blackened and evil to see.

But I will say that in Grimsby we felt not the worst, by reason of that wisdom of my father, and always Witlaf and his house shared with us. Hard it was here, but elsewhere harder.

And then came the pestilence that goes with famine always. I have heard that men have prayed to their gods for that, for it has seemed better to them to die than live.

With the first breath of the pestilence died Grim my father, and about that I do not like to say much. He bade us remember the words he had spoken of Havelok our brother, and he spoke long to Arngeir in private of the same; and then he told us to lay him in mound in the ancient way, but with his face toward Denmark, whence we came. And thereafter he said no more, but lay still until there came up suddenly through the thick air a thunderstorm from the north; and in that he passed, and with his passing the rain came.

Thereof Withelm said that surely Odin fetched him, and that at once he had made prayer for us. But the Welsh folk said that not Odin but the White Christ had taken the man who had been a father to them, and had staved off the worst of the famine from them.

Then pined and died my mother Leva, for she passed in her sleep on the day before we made the mound over her husband, and so we laid them in it together, and that was well for both, as I think, for so they would have wished.

So we made a great bale fire over my father's mound, where it stood over the highest sandhill; and no warrior was ever more wept, for English and Welsh and Danes were at one in this. We set his weapons with him, and laid him in the boat that was the best—and a Saxon gave that—and in it oars and mast and sail, and so covered him therein. And so he waits for the end of all things that are now, and the beginning of those better ones that shall be.

That thunderstorm was nothing to the land, for it skirted the shores and died away to the south, and after it came the heat again; but at least it brought a little hope. There were fish along the shore that night, too, if not many; and though they were gone again in the morning, there was a better store in every house, for men were mindful of Grim's teaching.

Now, of all men, Havelok seemed to feel the trouble of the famine the most, because he could not bear to see the children hungry in the cottages of the fishers. It seemed to him that he had more than his share of the stores, because so mighty a frame of his needed feeding mightily, as he said. And so for two days after my father died and was left in his last resting, Havelok went silent about the place. Here by the shore the pestilence hardly came, and so that trouble was not added to us, though the weak and old went, as had Grim and Leva, here and there.

Then, on the third day, Havelok called Arngeir and us, and spoke what was in his mind.

"Brothers, I may not bear this any longer, and I must go away. I can do no more to help than can the weakest in the town; and even my strength is an added trouble to those who have not enough without me. Day by day grows the store in the house less; and it will waste more slowly if I am elsewhere."

Then Arngeir said quickly, "This is foolishness, Havelok, my brother. Whither will you go? For worse is the famine inland; and I think that we may last out here. The fish will come back presently."

"I will go to Lincoln. All know that there is plenty there, for the townsfolk were wise in time. There is the court, and at the court a strong man is likely to be welcome, if only as one who shall keep the starving poor from the doors, as porter."

He spoke bitterly, for Alsi, the king, had no good name for kindness, and at that Withelm laughed sadly.

"Few poor would Havelok turn away," he said, under his breath; "rather were he likely to take the king's food from the very board, and share it among them."

That made us laugh a little, for it was true enough; and one might seem to see our mighty one sweeping the table, while none dared try to stay him.

But many times of late Havelok had gone dinnerless, that he might feed some weak one in the village. Maybe some of us did likewise; but, if so, we learned from him.

"Well, then," Havelok said, when we had had our wretched laugh, "Alsi, the king, can better afford to feed me than can anyone else. Therefore, I will go and see about it. And if not the king, then, doubtless, some rich merchant will give me food for work, seeing that I can lift things handily. But Radbard here is a great and hungry man also, and it will be well that he come with me; or else, being young and helpless, I may fall into bad hands."

So he spoke, jesting and making little of the matter. But I saw that he was right, and that we who were strong to take what might come should go away. It was likely that a day of our meals would make a week's fare for Arngeir's three little ones, and they were to be thought for.

Now for a little while Arngeir tried to keep us back; but it was plain that he knew also that our going was well thought of, and only his care for Havelok stood in the way. Indeed, he said that I and Raven might go.

"Raven knows as much about the fish as did our father," Havelok said. "He will go out in the morning, and look at sky and sea, and sniff at the wind; and if I say it will be fine, he says that the herrings will be in such a place; and so they are, while maybe it rains all day to spite my weather wisdom. You cannot do without Raven; for it is ill to miss any chance of the sea just now. Nor can Withelm go, for he knows all in the place, and who is most in want. It will not do to be without house steward. So we two will go. Never have I been to Lincoln yet, and Radbard knows the place well."

I think that I have never said that Grim would never take Havelok to the city, lest he should be known by some of the Danish folk who came now and then to the court, some from over seas, and others from the court of King Ethelwald, of whom I have spoken, the Norfolk king. But that danger was surely over now, for Havelok would be forgotten in Denmark; and Ethelwald was long dead, and his wife also, leaving his daughter Goldberga to her uncle Alsi, as his ward. So Alsi held both kingdoms until the princess was of age, when she would take her own. It was said that she lived at Dover until that time, and so none of her Danes were likely to be at court if we went there and found places.

So Havelok's plan was to be carried out, and he and I were to set forth next morning. Arngeir was yet uneasy about it, nevertheless, as one could see; but I did not at that time know why it should be so doubtful a matter that two strong men should go forth and seek their fortune but thirty miles away. So we laughed at him.

"Well," he said, "every one knows Radbard; but they will want to know who his tall comrade may be. Old foes has Havelok, as Radbard knows, and therefore it may be well to find a new name for him."

"No need to go far for that," Withelm said. "The marsh folk call him Curan."

"Curan, the wonder, is good," Arngeir said, after a little thought, for we all knew Welsh enough by this time. "Or if you like a Danish name better, brother, call it 'Kwaran,' but silent about yourself you must surely be."

We used to call him that at times—for it means "the quiet" in our old tongue—seeing how gentle and courtly he was in all his ways. So the name was well fitting in either way.

"Silent and thoughtful should the son of a king be," says the Havamal, and so it was with Havelok, son of Gunnar.

Now when I came to think, it was plain that we three stood in the mind of our brother in the place which my father had boded for us, and I was glad. Well I knew that Raven, the watchful, and Withelm, the wise and thoughtful, would do their parts; and I thought that whether I could do mine was to be seen very shortly. If I failed in help at need it should not be my fault. It had been long growing in my mind who Havelok must be, though I said nothing of what I thought, because my father had bidden me be silent long ago, and I thought that I knew why.

We were to start early in the morning, so that we should get to the city betimes in the evening; and there was one thing that troubled the good sisters more than it did us. They would have had us go in all our finery, such as we were wont to wear on holidays and at feastings; but none of that was left. It had gone in buying corn, while there was any left to buy, along with every silver penny that we had. So we must go in the plain fisher gear, that is made for use and not for show, frayed and stained, and a trifle tarry, but good enough. It would not do to go in our war gear into a peaceful city; and so we took but the seax that every Englishman wears, and the short travelling spear that all wayfarers use. Hardly was it likely that even the most hungry outlaw of the wild woldland would care to fall on us; for by this time such as we seemed had spent their all in food for themselves and their families, and all the money in Lindsey seemed to have gone away to places where there was yet somewhat to buy.

Busy were those kind sisters of ours that night in making ready the last meal that we should need to take from them. And all the while they foretold pleasant things for us at the king's court—how that we should find high honour and the like. So they set us forth well and cheerfully.

With the dawn we started, and Havelok was thoughtful beyond his wont after we had bidden farewell to the home folk, so that I thought that he grieved for leaving them at the last.

"Downhearted, are you, brother?" I said, when we had gone a couple of miles in silence across the level. "I have been to Lincoln two or three times in a month sometimes in the summer, and it is no great distance after all. I think nothing of the journey, or of going so short a way from home."

"Nor do I," he answered. "First, I was thinking of the many times my father, Grim, went this way, and now he can walk no more; and then I was thinking of that empty cottage we passed just now, where there was a pleasant little family enough three months ago, who are all gone. And then—ay, I will tell you—I had a dream last night that stays in my mind, so that I think that out of this journey of ours will come somewhat."

"Food and shelter, to wit," said I, "which is all we want for a month or two. Let us hear it."

"If we get all that I had in that dream, we shall want no more all our lives," he said, with a smile; "but it seems a foolish dream, now that I come to tell it."

"That is mostly the way with dreams. It is strange how wonderful they seem until daylight comes. I have heard Witlaf's gleeman say that the best lays he ever made were in his sleep; but if he remembered aught of them, they were naught."

"It is not like that altogether with my dream," Havelok said, "for it went thus. I thought that I was in Denmark—though how I knew it was Denmark I cannot say—and on a hill I sat, and at my feet was stretched out all the land, so that I could see all over it at once. Then I longed for it, and I stretched out my arms to gather it in, and so long were they that they could well fathom it, and so I drew it to myself. With towns and castles it was gathered in, and the keys of the strongholds fell rattling at my feet, while the weight of the great land seemed to lie on my knees. Then said one, and the voice was the voice of Grim, 'This is not all the dream that I have made for you, but it is enough for now.' That is the dream, therefore, and what make you of it?"

"A most amazing hunger, brother, certainly, and promise of enough to satisfy it withal. I think that the sisters have talked about our advancement at court until you have dreamed thereof."

"Why," he said, "that is surely at the bottom of the dream, and I am foolish to think more of it."

Then we went on, and grew light hearted as the miles passed. But though I had seemed to think little of the dream, it went strangely with my thoughts of what might lie before Havelok in days to come.

As we went inland from the sea, the track of the pestilence was more dread, for we passed house after house that had none living in them, and some held the deserted dead. I might say many things of what we saw, but I do not like to think of them much. Many a battlefield have I seen since that day, but I do not think them so terrible as the field over which has gone the foe that is unseen ere he smites. One knows the worst of the battle when it is over and the roll is called, but who knows where famine and pestilence stay? And those have given life for king or land willingly, but these were helpless.

It was good to climb the welds and look back, for in the high lands there was none of this. Below us the levels, with their bright waters, were wrapped in a strange blue haze, that had come with the famine at its worst, and, as men said, had brought or made the sickness. I had heard of it; but it was not so plain when one was in it, or else our shore was free, which is likely, seeing how little we suffered.

After that we kept to the high land, not so much fearing the blue robe of the pestilence as what things of its working we might see; and so it was late in the afternoon that we came in sight of Lincoln town, on its hill, with the wide meres and river at its feet. I have seen no city that stands more wonderfully than this of ours, with the grey walls of the Roman town to crown the gathering of red and brown roofs that nestle on the slope and within them. And ever as we drew nearer Havelok became more silent, as I thought because he had never seen so great a town before, until we passed the gates of the stockade that keeps the town that lies without the old walls, and then he said, looking round him strangely, "Brother, you will laugh at me, no doubt, for an arrant dreamer, but this is the place whereto in dreams I have been many a time. Now we shall come to yon turn of the road among the houses, and beyond that we shall surely see a stone-arched gate in a great wall, and spearmen on guard thereat."

It was so, and the gate and guard were before us in a few more steps. It was the gate of the old Roman town, inside which was the palace of the king and one or two more great houses only. Our English kin hate a walled town or a stone house, and they would not live within the strong walls, whose wide span was, save for the king's palace, which was built partly of the house of the Roman governor, and these other halls, which went for naught in so wide a meadow, empty and green, and crossed by two paved roads, with grass growing between the stones. There were brown marks, as of the buried stones of other foundations, on the grass where the old streets had been.

All the straggling English town was outside the walls, and only in time of war would the people use them as a stronghold, as they used the still more ancient camps on the hills.

"Many times have you heard us tell of this place, Havelok," I said. "It is no wonder that you seem to know it."

"Nay," he answered, "but this is the city of my dreams, and somewhat is to happen here."

CHAPTER VIII. BERTHUN THE COOK.

For that night we went to the house of the old dame with whom my father and I were wont to lodge when we came to the market, and she took us in willingly, though she could make little cheer for us. Truly, as had been said, the scarcity was not so great in Lincoln, but everything was terribly dear, and that to some is almost as bad.

"No money have I now, dame," I said ruefully, "but I think that for old sake's sake you will not turn us away."

"Not I, faith," she answered. "I mind the first day your father came here, and never a penny had he, and since then there has been no want in this house. Luck comes with Grim and his folk, as I think. But this is a son whom I have not seen before, if he is indeed your brother."

"I am Grim's son Curan," said Havelok, "and I have not been to Lincoln ere this. But I have heard of you many times."

That pleased our old hostess, and then she asked after Grim. Hard it was to have to tell her that he was gone, and hard it was for her to hear, for the little house had been open to us for ten years.

"What will you do now, masters?" she asked, when she had told us of many a kindness done to her and her husband, who was long dead now, by my father.

I told her that we were too many at home since the fishing had failed, and had therefore come to find some work here, at the court if possible.

"Doubtless two strong men will not have to go far to find somewhat," she said; "but the court is full of idle folk, and maybe no place is empty. Now I will have you bide with me while you are at a loose end, for there are yet a few silver pennies in store, and I ween that they came out of Grim's pouch to me. Lonely am I, and it is no good hoarding them when his sons are hungry."

We thanked her for that kind saying, but she made light of it, saying that almost did she hope that we should find no work, that we might bide and lighten her loneliness for a time.

"But if an old woman's advice is good for aught, you shall not go to the court first of all. Sour is King Alsi, and he is likely to turn you away offhand rather than grant the smallest boon. But there is Berthun the cook, as we call him—steward is his court name though—and he orders the household, and is good-natured, so that all like him. Every morning he comes into the market, and there you can ask him if there is a place for you, and he loves to look on a man such as Curan. But if it is weapons you want—and I suppose that is in the minds of tall men always, though it brings sorrow in the end—there is the captain of the guard who lives over the gate, and he might be glad to see you enough."

We said that we would see the steward, for we wanted no long employment. We would go back to Grimsby when the famine ended, if it were only by the coming of the fish again.

Then she gave us of the best she had—black bread and milk to wit; and after that we slept soundly before the fire, as I had done many times before in that humble house. Black bread and milk it was again in the morning; but there was plenty, and goodwill to season it. Then the old dame sent us forth cheerfully and early, that we might not miss Berthun the steward, from whom she hoped great things for us.

So we sat in the marketplace for an hour or more watching the gates of the wall for his coming; and men stared at Havelok, so that we went to the bridge and waited there. One could see all the market from thence. There were a good many of the market folk coming in presently, and most of them knew me, and more than one stopped and spoke.

Now Havelok grew restless, and wandered here and there looking at things, though not going far from me; and while I was thus alone on the bridge, a man I knew by sight came and leaned on the rail by me, and told me that he had just seen the most handsome man and the goodliest to look on that was in the kingdom, as he thought.

"Yonder he stands," he said, "like a king who has fallen on bad times. I mind that I thought that Alsi, our king, would look like that, before I saw him, and sorely disappointed was I in him therefore. Now I wonder who yon man may be?"

I did not say that I knew, but I looked at Havelok, and for the first time, perhaps because I had never seen him among strangers before, I knew that he was wondrous to look on. Full head and shoulders was he above all the folk, and the Lindseymen are no babes in stature. And at the same moment it came to me that it were not well that men should know him as the son of Grim the fisher. If my father, who was the wisest of men, had been so careful for all these years, I must not be less so; for if there were ever any fear of the spies of Hodulf, it would be now when his foe might be strong enough in years to think of giving trouble. Not that I ever thought much of the said Hodulf, seeing how far off he was; but my father had brought me up to dread him for this brother of mine. Certainly by this time Hodulf knew that Grim had come to England in safety, for the name of the new town must have come to his ears: and if Grim, then the boy he had given to him.

The man who spoke to me went away soon, and Havelok strolled back to me.

"I would that the cook, or whoever he is, would come," he said. "I grow weary of this crowd that seems to have naught to do but stare at a stranger."

"What shall we ask, when he does come? and supposing that there is a place for but one of us?" I said.

"Why, then, the one it fits best will take it, and the other must seek some other chance. That is all."

"As you will, brother," I answered, "but I would rather that we should be together."

"And I also. But after all, both will be in Lincoln, and we must take what comes. It is but for a little while, and we shall not like to burden that good old dame by being too hard to please. We want somewhat to do until we can go home, not for a day longer, and I care not what it is."

"That is right," I said; "and the sooner I see one of our folk coming over this bridge with a full basket of fish, the better I shall like it. But it may be a long day before that. Now, I have been thinking that it were not well that you should say that you are the son of Grim."

I did not quite know how he would take this, for he was proud of my father as I. But that very pride made it easy.

"Maybe not," he said thoughtfully, "for it seems unworthy of his sons that we have to ask for service from any man. But I do not think that he could blame us, as things are. Nevertheless, folk shall not talk."

"Men know me," said I, "but that cannot be helped."

He laughed gaily at that.

"Why, here we speak as if one man in a hundred knew you. And after all it may be that we shall get a place that none need be ashamed of. Look, here comes a mighty fine lord from the gateway."

It was Berthun the steward, for whom we were waiting, and I knew him well by sight. Often had he bought our fish, but I did not think that he would remember me by name, if he had ever heard it. He was a portly and well-favoured man, not old, and as he came down the street to the marketplace at the hill foot he laughed and talked with one and another of the townsfolk, whether high or low, in very pleasant wise.

Presently he stopped at a stall, and priced some meat; and when he had bought it he looked round and called for some men to carry it for him; and at that the idlers made a rush for him, tripping over one another in haste to be first, while he laughed at them.

He chose two or three, and sent them up the hill to the palace with their burdens, and then went to another booth and bought.

"This is work at which I should make a good hand," said Havelok, laughing at the scrambling men who ran forward when the steward again called for porters. "Well paid also the job must be, to judge of their eagerness."

The three men who had been chosen took their burden and went away, and the steward came near us, to a bakery that was close to the bridge end.

"I have a mind to do porter for once," Havelok said. "Then I can at least earn somewhat to take back to the dame tonight."

"If you do so," I answered, "I will wait here for you. But you will have to fight for the place."

Now the steward bought all that he needed, and that was bread for the whole palace for the day, and again he called for porters. Whereon Havelok got up from the bridge rail and went towards him in no great hurry, so that the idlers were in a crowd before him.

"Ho! friends," cried Havelok, "let the good cook see all of us and make his choice. He can only take one at a time."

"One, forsooth," said a man from the crowd; "why, there is a load for four men there."

"Well, then, let him pick four little ones, and give these little ones a chance of being seen."

Now I do not think that he would have troubled with the matter any more; but whether the men knew that this was the last load that the steward had to send home, or whether they quarrelled, I cannot say, but in their eagerness to raise the two great baskets they fell to struggling over them, and the steward tried to quiet the turmoil by a free use of his staff, and there was a danger that the bread should be scattered.

"Here will be waste of what there is none too much of just now," said Havelok; and with that he went to the aid of the steward, picking up and setting aside the men before him, and then brushing the struggling rivals into a ruefully wondering heap from about the baskets, so that he and the steward faced each other, while there fell a silence on the little crowd that had gathered. Even the men who had been put aside stayed their abuse as they saw what manner of man had come to the rescue of the baskets, and Havelok and the cook began to laugh.

"Fe, fi, fo, fum!" said Berthun; "here is surely a Cornish giant among us! Now I thank you, good Blunderbore, or whatever your name is, for brushing off these flies."

"The folk in this place are unmannerly," said Havelok; "hut if you want the bread carried up the hill I will do it for you."

Berthun looked him up and down in a puzzled sort of way once or twice ere he answered, "Well, as that is your own proposal, pick your helpers and do so; I would not have asked such a thing of you myself."

"There is not much help needed," said Havelok. "I think this may be managed if I get a fair hold."

Now we were used to seeing him carry such loads as would try the strength of even Raven and myself, who could lift a load for three men; but when he took the two great baskets of bread and swung them into place on either arm, a smothered shout went round the crowd, and more than once I heard the old Welsh name that the marsh folk had given him spoken.

"Let us be going," said Havelok to the steward on that. "One would think that none of these had ever hefted a fair load in his life, to listen to them."

So he nodded to me across the heads of the crowd, and followed Berthun, and the idlers followed him for a little. The guard turned these back at the gate, and Havelok went through, and I could see him no more.

Presently the crowd drifted back to their places, and I heard them talking. Havelok and his strength was likely to be a nine days' wonder in Lincoln, and I was glad that I had asked him not to say whence he was.

"He is some thane's son who is disguised," said one.

"Maybe he is under a vow," said another; and then one chimed in with a story of some prince of Arthur's time, by name Gareth, who hid his state at his mother's command.

"As for me," said the baker, "I think that he is a fisher, as he looks —at least, that is, as his clothes make him."

So even he had his doubts, and I will say that I understood well enough now why my father never brought him here before.

Havelok was long in coming back, as I thought, and I seemed to be wasting time here, and so I bethought me of the other man to whom the old dame had said we might go—namely, the captain of the gate. I should see Havelok if I stood there.

The captain was talking with some of his men as I came up, and of course it was of Havelok that they spoke; and seeing that I wore the same dress as he, they asked me if I knew who he was.

"He is a fisher from the coast," I answered. "I have heard him called Curan."

"Welsh then," the captain answered, somewhat disappointed, as it seemed. "If he had been a Mercian, or even a Saxon, I would have had him here, but a fisher has had no training in arms after all."

"Some of us have," said I.

The captain looked me up and down, and then walked round me, saying nothing until we were face to face again.

"That, I take it, is a hint that you might like to be a housecarl of the king's," he said. "Are you a Lindseyman?"

"I am the son of Grim of Grimsby," I said.

"Why, then, I suppose you would not think of it, seeing that my place is not empty; but if you will dress in that way you must not wonder if I took you for a likely man for a housecarl. We know Grim well by repute. Come in and tell me about the famine, and this new town of yours that one hears of."

Now I could not see Havelok as yet, and so I went into the stone-arched Roman guardroom, and Eglaf the captain fetched out a pot of wine and some meat, and made me very welcome while we talked. And presently I thought that I might do worse than be a housecarl for a time, if Eglaf would have me. I should be armed at least, and with comrades to help if Havelok needed me; though all the while I thought myself foolish for thinking that any harm could come to him who was so strong. Nevertheless, what my father had laid on us all was to be heeded, and I was to be his helper in arms. So presently I told Eglaf that the housecarl's life seemed an easy one, and that it would be pleasant to go armed for a while, if he would have me for a short time, seeing that the famine had left us naught to do.

"Well, there is plenty to eat and drink," he said, "and good lodging in the great hall or here, as one's post may be, and a silver penny every day; but no fighting to be done, seeing that Alsi will sooner pay a foe to go away than let us see to the matter. Doing naught is mighty hard work at times."

Then he asked if I had arms, and I said that I would send for them at once, and that settled the matter. If I chose to come with my own arms I should be welcome.

"I am glad to get you," he said, "for there will be a crowd in the place ere long, for the Witan is to meet, and the thanes will come with their men, and there will be fine doings, so that we need another strong arm or two that we may keep the peace,"

He took a long pull at the wine pot, and then went on, "Moreover, the princess's Danes are sure to want to fight some of the English folk for sport."

"What! is she here?"

"Not yet. They say that she is coming when the Witan meets, because the Witan wants to see her, not because Alsi does. But he dare not go against them, and so it must be."

Now Goldberga, the princess, was, as I have said, Alsi's ward, and was at this time just eighteen, so that it would be time for her to take the kingdom that was hers by right. It was common talk, however, that Alsi by no means liked the thought of giving the wide lands of East Anglia up to her, and that he would not do so if he could anywise help it. Maybe the Witan thought so also, and would see fair play. Ethelwald and his wife Orwenna had been well loved both here and in Norfolk, and it was said that Goldberga their daughter grew wondrous fair and queenly.

I had learned one thing though, and that was that we should have Ethelwald's Danes here shortly, and that I did not like; but after all, what did these few men of an old household know of the past days in Denmark? There had been no going backwards and forwards between the two countries since the king died ten years ago. Nevertheless I was glad that I had found a friend in Eglaf, and that I was to be here.

Then I got up to go, and the captain bade me come as soon as I could, for he could talk to me as he could not to the men, maybe. So I bade him farewell, and went slowly back, down the street, sitting down in the old place.

It was not long after that before Havelok came, and I saw Berthun the steward come as far as the gate with him, and stand looking after him as he walked away; then Eglaf came out, and both looked and talked for a while, and therefore, as soon as I knew that Havelok saw me, I went away and across the bridge to a place that was quiet, and waited for him there.

"Well, brother," I said, "you have had a long job with the cook. What is the end of it all?"

"I do not know," he answered slowly. "That is to be seen yet."

I looked at him, for his voice was strange, and I saw that he seemed to have the same puzzled look in his eyes as he had last night when we came first into the city. I asked if anything was amiss.

"Nothing," he said; "but this is a place of dreams. I think that I shall wake presently in Grimsby."

We walked on, and past the straggling houses outside the stockade, and so into the fields; and little by little he told me what was troubling him.

Berthun the steward had said nothing until the palace was reached, and had led him to the great servants' hall, and there had bidden him set down his load and rest. Then he had asked if he would like to see the place, and of course Havelok had said that he would, wondering at the same time if this was all the pay that the porters got. So he was shown the king's hall, and the arms on the wall, and the high seat, and the king's own chamber, and many more things, and all the while they seemed nothing strange to Havelok.

"This Berthun watched me as a cat watches a mouse all the while," he said, "and at last he asked if I had ever seen a king's house before. I told him that I had a dream palace which had all these things, but was not the same. And at that he smiled and asked my name. 'Curan,' I said, of course; and at that he smiled yet more, in a way that seemed to say that he did not believe me. 'It is a good name for the purpose,' he said, 'but I have to ask your pardon for calling you by the old giant's name just now.' I said that as he did not know my name, and it was a jest that fitted, it was no matter. Then he made a little bow, and asked if I would take any food before I went from the place; so I told him that it was just what I came for, and he laughed, and I had such a meal as I have not seen for months. It is in my mind that I left a famine in that house, so hungry was I. There is no pride about this Berthun, for he served me himself, and I thanked him."

Then Havelok stopped and passed his hand over his face, and he laughed a little, uneasy laugh.

"And all the while I could not get it out of my head that he ought to be kneeling before me."

"Well," he went on after a little, "when I had done, this Berthun asked me a question, saying that he was a discreet man, and that if he could help me in any way he would do so. Had I a vow on me? Nothing more than to earn my keep until the famine was over, I said. I had left poor folk who would have the more for my absence, and he seemed to think that this was a wondrous good deed. So I told him that if he could help me in this I should be glad. Whereon he lowered his voice and asked if I must follow the way of Gareth the prince. I had not heard of this worthy, and so I said that what was good enough for a prince was doubtless good enough for me, and that pleased him wonderfully.

"'Gladly will I take you into my service,' he said, 'if that will content you.' Which it certainly would; and so I am to be porter again tomorrow. Then I said that I had a comrade to whom I must speak first. He said that no doubt word must be sent home of my welfare, and he saw me as far as the gate."

"Which of you went out of the hall first?" I asked.

"Now I come to think of it, I did. I went to let him pass, as the elder, though it was in my mind to walk out as if the place belonged to me; and why, I do not know, for no such thought ever came to me in Witlaf's house, or even in a cottage; but he stood aside and made me go first."

Now I longed for Withelm and his counsel, for one thing was plain to me, and that was that with the once familiar things of the kingship before him the lost memory of his childhood was waking in Havelok, and I thought that the time my father boded was at hand. The steward had seen that a court and its ways were no new thing to him, and had seen too that he had been wont to take the first place somewhere; so he had deemed that this princely-looking youth was under a vow of service, in the old way. It is likely that the Welsh name would make him think that he was from beyond the marches to the west, and that was just as well.

Then Havelok said, "Let us go back to the widow's house and sleep. My head aches sorely, and it is full of things that are confused, so that I do not know rightly who I am or where. Maybe it will pass with rest."

We turned hack, and then I told him what I meant to do; and that pleased him, for we should see one another often.

"We are in luck, brother, so far," he said, "having lit on what we needed so soon; but I would that these dreams would pass."

"It is the poor food of many days gone by," I said. "Berthun will cure that for you very shortly."

"It is likely enough," he answered more gaily.

"Little want is in that house, but honest Berthun does not know what a trencherman he has hired. But I would that we had somewhat to take back to our good old dame tonight."

But she was more than satisfied with our news; and when she saw that Havelok was silent, she made some curious draught of herbs for him, which he swallowed, protesting, and after that he slept peacefully.

I went out to the marketplace and found a man whom I knew—one of those who carried our fish at times; and him I sent, with promise of two silver pennies presently, to Arngeir for my arms, telling him that all was well.

CHAPTER IX. CURAN THE PORTER.

There is no need for me to say how my arms came to me from Grimsby, and how I went to Eglaf as I had promised. I will only say that the life was pleasant enough, if idle, as a housecarl, and that I saw Havelok every day at one time or another, which was all that I could wish.

But as I had to wait a day or two while the messenger went and the arms came from home, I saw Havelok meet the steward on the next day: and a quaint meeting enough it was, for Berthun hardly knew how he should behave to this man, whom he had made up his mind was a wandering prince.

There was the crowd who waited for the call for porters, as ever; hut the steward would have none of them, until he saw his new man towering over the rest, and then he half made a motion to unbonnet, which he checked and turned into a beckoning wave of the hand, whereon the idlers made their rush for him, and Havelok walked through and over them, more or less, as they would not make way for him. But so good-naturedly was this done, that even those whom he lifted from his path and dropped on one side laughed when they saw who had cleared a way for himself, and stood gaping to see what came next.

"Ho—why, yes—Curan—that was the name certainly. I have been looking for you, as we said," stammered the steward.

"Here am I, therefore," answered Havelok, "and where is the load?"

"Truth to tell, I have bought but this at present," said the steward, pointing to a small basket of green stuff on the stall at which he stood.

"Well, I suppose there is more to come," Havelok said, taking it up; "it will be a beginning."

"I will not ask you to carry more than that," Berthun began.

"Why, man, this is foolishness. If you have a porter, make him carry all he can, else he will not earn his keep."

"As you will," answered the steward, shrugging his shoulders as one who cannot account for some folk's whims, and going on to the next booth.

Now, I suppose that the idlers looked to see Havelok walk away with this light load gladly, as any one of them would have done, and that then their turn would have come; but this was not what they expected. Maybe they would have liked to see the strong man sweep up all the palace marketing and carry it, as a show, but it might interfere with their own gains. So there was a murmur or two among them, and this grew when Havelok took the next burden in like manner.

"Ho, master cook," cried a ragged man at last, "this is not the custom, and it is not fair that one man should do all the work, and all for one wage."

Berthun took no notice of this; and so the cry was repeated, and that by more than one. And at last he turned round and answered.

"Go to, ye knaves," he said with a red face and angrily; "if I find a man who will save me the trouble of your wrangles every day, shall I not do as I please?"

Then there was a tumult of voices, and some of them seemed sad, as if a last hope was gone, and that Havelok heard.

"There is somewhat in this," he said to the cook. "What pay have you given to each man who carries for you?"

"A yesterday's loaf each," answered Berthun, wondering plainly that Havelok paid any heed to the noise.

"Well, then, let us go on, and we will think of somewhat," Havelok said; and then he turned to the people, who were silent at once.

"I am a newcomer, and a hungry one," he said, smiling quietly, "and I have a mind to earn my loaf well. Hinder me not for today, and hereafter I will take my chance with the rest, if need is."

Thereat the folk began to laugh also, for it was plain that none had any chance at all if he chose to put forth his strength; but an old man said loudly, "Let the good youth alone now, and he shall talk with us when he has done his errand and fed that great bulk of his. He has an honest face, and will be fair to all."

That seemed to please the crowd; and after that they said no more, but followed and watched the gathering up of Havelok's mighty burden. And presently there was more than he could manage; and he spoke to Berthun, who checked himself in a half bow as he answered.

Then Havelok looked over the faces before him, and beckoned to two men who seemed weakly and could not press forward, and to them he gave the lighter wares, and so left the market with his master, as one must call the steward.

"What told I you?" said the old man, as they came back from the great gate. "Never saw I one with a face like that who harmed any man, either in word or deed."

Now when Havelok had set down his load in the kitchen, he straightened himself and said to Berthun, who was, as one may say, waiting his pleasure.

"This is today's task; but it is in my mind that I would stay up here and work."

"What would you do?"

"There are men yonder who will miss the carrying if I am market porter always. But here are things I can earn my keep at, and help the other servants with at the same time. Water drawing there is, and carrying of logs for the fire, and cleaving them also, and many other things that will be but hardening my muscles, while they are over heavy to be pleasant for other folk."

"Well," answered Berthun, "that is all I could wish, and welcome to some here will you be. Let it be so."

"Now, I do not think that you would make a gain by my work this morning?"

"Truly not, if any one is wronged by my doing so," the puzzled steward said.

Then Havelok asked how many men would have been needed to carry up the goods that he had brought, and Berthun said that he was wont to send one at least from each stall, and more if the burden was heavy.

"Then today four poor knaves must go dinnerless by reason of my strength, and that does not please me altogether," said Havelok gravely. "Give these two their loaves; and then, I pray you, give me the other four, and let me go back to the market."

And then he added, with a smile, "I think that I can order matters there so that things will be more fair, and that you will have less trouble with that unmannerly scramble."

"If you can do that, you are even as your name calls you. Take them and welcome, Curan, and then come here and do what work you will," Berthun said in haste.

"Tasks you must set me, or I shall grow idle. That is the failing of over-big men," Havelok said; and he took the loaves and left the palace with the two market men at his heels.

I saw him come back, and at once the crowd of idlers made for him, but in a respectful way enough. I knew, however, how easily these folks took to throwing mud and stones in their own quarrels, and I was a little anxious, for to interfere with the ways of the market is a high offence among them.

But Havelok knew naught of that, and went his way with his loaves to the bridge end, and there sat on the rail and looked at the men before him. And /lo!/ back to my mind came old days in Denmark, and how I once saw Gunnar the king sitting in open court to do justice, and then I knew for certain that I was looking on his son. And when Havelok spoke it was in the voice of Gunnar that I had long forgotten, but which came back to me clear and plain, as if it were yesterday that I had heard it. Never does a boy forget his first sight of the king.

"Friends," said Havelok, "if I do two men's work I get two men's pay, or else I might want to know the reason why. But I am only one man, all the same, and it seems right to me that none should be the loser. Wherefore I have a mind to share my pay fairly."

There was a sort of shout at that and Havelok set his four loaves in a row on the rail beside him. But then some of the rougher men went to make a rush at them, and he took the foremost two and shook them, so that others laughed and bade the rest beware.

"So that is just where the trouble comes in," said Havelok coolly; "the strong get the first chance, as I did this morning, by reason of there being none to see fair play."

"Bide in the market, master, and we will make you judge among us," cried a small man from the edge of the crowd.

"Fair and softly," Havelok answered. "I am not going to bide here longer than I can help. Come hither, grandfer," and he beckoned to the old man who had bidden them wait his return, "tell me the names of the men who have been longest without any work."

The old man pointed out three, and then Havelok stopped him.

"One of these loaves is my own wage," he said; "but you three shall have the others, and that will be the easiest day's work you ever did. But think not that I am going to do the like every day, for Lincoln hill is no easy climb, and the loaf is well earned at the top. Moreover, it is not good to encourage the idle by working for them."

So the three men had their loaves, and Havelok began to eat his own slowly, swinging his legs on the bridge rail while the men watched him.

"Master," said the small man from behind, pushing forward a little, now that the crowd was looser, "make a law for the market, I pray you, that all may have a chance."

"Who am I to make laws?" said my brother slowly, and, as he said this, his hand went up to his brows as it had gone last night when the palace had wearied him.

"The strong make laws for the weak," the old man said to him in a low voice. "If the strong is honest, for the weak it is well. Things are hard for the weak here; and therefore say somewhat, for it may be of use."

"It can be none, unless the strong is at hand to see that the law is kept."

"Sometimes the market will see that a rule is not broken, for itself. There is no rule for this matter."

Again Havelok passed his hand over his eyes, and he was long in answering. The loaf lay at his side now. Presently he looked straight before him, and, as if he saw far beyond Lincoln Hill and away to the north, he said, "This is my will, therefore, that from this time forward it shall be the law that men shall have one among them who may fairly and without favour so order this matter that all shall come to Berthun the steward in turns that shall be kept, and so also with the carrying for any other man. There shall be a company of porters, therefore, which a man must join before he shall do this work, save that every stranger who comes shall be suffered to take a burden once, and then shall be told of this company, and the custom that is to be. And I will that this old man shall see to this matter."

And then he stopped suddenly, and seemed to start as a great shout went up from the men, a shout as of praise; and his eyes looked again on them, and that wonderingly.

"They will keep this law," said the old man. "Well have you spoken."

"I have said a lot of foolishness, maybe," answered Havelok. "For the life of me I could not say it again."

"There is not one of us that could not do so," said his adviser. "But bide you here, master, in the town?"

"I am in service at the palace."

Then the old man turned round to the others and said, "This is good that we have heard, and it is nothing fresh, for all trades have their companies, and why should not we? Is this stranger's word to be kept?"

Maybe there were one or two of the rougher men who held their peace, for they had had more than their share of work, but from the rest came a shout of "Ay!" as it were at the Witan.

"Well, then," said Havelok suddenly, getting down from his seat and giving his loaf to the old man, "see you to it; and if any give trouble hereafter, I shall hear from the cook, and, by Odin, I will even come down and knock their heads together for them. So farewell."

He smiled round pleasantly, yet in that way which has a meaning at the back of it; and at that every cap went off and the men did him reverence as to a thane at least, and he nodded to them and came across to me.

"Come out into the fields, brother, for I shall weep if I bide here longer."

So he said; and we went away quickly, while the men gathered round the old leader who was to be, and talked earnestly.

"This famine plays strange tricks with me," he said when we were away from every one. "Did you hear all that I said?"

"I heard all, and you have spoken the best thing that could have been said. Eight years have I been to this market, and a porters' guild is just what is needed. And it will come about now."

"It was more dreaming, and so I must be a wise man in my dream. Even as in the palace yesterday it came on me, and I seemed to be at the gate of a great hall, and it was someone else that was speaking, and yet myself. It is in my mind that I told these knaves what my lordly will was, forsooth; and the words came to me in our old Danish tongue, so that it was hard not to use it. But it seems to me that long ago I did these things, or saw them, I know not which, somewhere. Tell me, did the king live in our town across the sea?"

"No, but in another some way off. My father took me there once or twice."

"Can you mind that he took me also?"

I shook my head, and longed for Withelm. Surely I would send for him, or for Arngeir, if this went on. Arngeir for choice, for I could tell him what I thought; and that would only puzzle Withelm, who knew less than I.

"We will ask Arngeir some day," I said; "he can remember."

"I suppose he did take me," mused Havelok; "and I suppose that I want more sleep or more food or somewhat. Now we will go and tell the old dame of my luck, for she has lost her lodger."

Then he told me of his fortune with the steward.

"Half afraid of me he seems, for he will have me do just what I will. That will be no hard place therefore."

But I thought that if I knew anything of Havelok my brother, he would be likely to make it hard by doing every one's work for him, and that Berthun saw this; or else that, as I had thought last night, the shrewd courtier saw the prince behind the fisher's garb.

So we parted presently at the gate of the palace wall, and I went back to the widow to wait for my arms, while he went to his master. And I may as well tell the end of Havelok's lawmaking.

Berthun went down to the market next day, and came back with a wonder to be told. And it was to Havelok that he went first to tell it, as he was drawing bucket after bucket of water from the deep old Roman well in the courtyard to fill the great tub which he considered a fair load to carry at once.

"There is something strange happening in the market," he said, "and I think that you have a hand in it. The decency of the place is wonderful, and you said that you thought I might have less trouble with the men than I was wont if you went down with the loaves. What did you? For I went to the baker's stalls and bought, and looked round for the tail that is after me always; and I was alone, and all the market folk were agape to see what was to be done. I thought that I had offended the market by yesterday's business, as they had called out on me, and I thought that I should have to come and fetch your—that is, if it pleased you. But first I called, as is my wont, for porters. Now all that rabble sat in a row along a wall, and, by Baldur, when I looked, they had cleaned themselves! Whereupon an old gaffer, who has carried things once or twice for me when there has been no crowd and he has been able to come forward, lifted up his voice and asked how many men I wanted, so please me.

"'Two,'I said, wondering, and at that two got up and came to me, and I sent them off. It was the same at the next booth, and the next, for he told off men as I wanted them; and here am I back a full half-hour earlier than ever before, and no mud splashes from the crowd either. It is said that they have made a porters' guild; and who has put that sense into their heads unless your—that is, unless you have done so, I cannot say."

Havelok laughed.

"Well, I did tell them that they should take turns, or somewhat like that; and I also told them that if you complained of them I would see to it."

"Did you say that you would pay them, may I ask—that is, of course, if they were orderly? For if so, I thank—"

"I told them that if you complained I would knock their heads together," said Havelok.

And that was the beginning of the Lincoln porters' guild; and in after days Havelok was wont to say that he would that all lawmaking was as easy as that first trial of his. Certainly from that day forward there was no man in all the market who would not have done aught for my brother, and many a dispute was he called on to settle. It is not always that a law, however good it may be, finds not a single one to set himself against it. But then Havelok was a strong man.

Now there is naught to tell of either Havelok or myself for a little while, for we went on in our new places comfortably enough. One heard much of Havelok, though, for word of him and his strength and goodliness, and of his kindness moreover, went through the town, with tales of what he had done. But I never heard that any dared to ask him to make a show of himself by doing feats of strength. Only when he came down to the guardroom sometimes with me would he take part in the weapon play that he loved, and the housecarls, who were all tried and good warriors, said that he was their master in the use of every weapon, and it puzzled them to know where he had learned so well, for he yet wore his fisher's garb. They sent his arms with mine from Grimsby, thinking that he also needed them; but he left them with the widow.

Havelok used to laugh if they asked him this, and tell them that it came by nature, and in that saying there was more than a little truth. So the housecarls, when they heard how Berthun was wont to treat him, thought also that he was some great man in hiding, and that the steward knew who he was. They did not know but that my close friendship with him had sprung up since he came, and that was well, and Eglaf and he and I were soon much together. The captain wanted him to leave the cook and be one of his men, but we thought that he had better bide where he was, rather than let Alsi the king have him always about him. For now and then that strange feeling, as of the old days, came over him when he was in the great hall, and he had to go away and brood over it for a while until he would set himself some mighty task and forget it.

But one day he came to me and said that he was sure he knew the ways of a king too well for it all to be a dream, adding that Berthun saw that also, and was curious about him.

"Tell me, brother, whence came I? /Was/ I truly brought up in a court?"

"I have never heard," I answered. "All that I know for certain is that you fled with us from Hodulf, the new king, and that for reasons which my father never told me."

Then said Havelok, "There was naught worth telling, therefore. I suppose I was the child of some steward like Berthun; but yet—"

So he went away, and I wondered long if it were not time that Arngeir should tell all that he knew. It was of no good for me to say that in voice and ways and deed he had brought back to me the Gunnar whom I had not seen for so many long years, for that was as likely as not to be a fancy of mine, or if not a fancy, he might be only a sister's son or the like. But in all that he said there was no word of his mother, and by that I knew that his remembrance must be but a shadow, if a growing one.

But there was no head in all the wide street that was not turned to look after him; and now he went his way from me with two children, whom he had caught up from somewhere, perched on either shoulder, and another in his arms, and they crowed with delight as he made believe to be some giant who was to eat them forthwith, and ran up the hill with them. No such playmate had the Lincoln children before Havelok came.

CHAPTER X. KING ALSI OF LINDSEY.

Three weeks after we came the Witan[8] began to gather, and that was a fine sight as the great nobles of Lindsey, and of the North folk of East Anglia, came day by day into the town with their followings, taking up their quarters either in the better houses of the place or else pitching bright-coloured tents and pavilions on the hillside meadows beyond the stockades. Many brought their ladies with them, and all day long was feasting and mirth at one place or another, as friend met with friend. Never had I seen such a gay sight as the marketplace was at midday, when the young thanes and their men met there and matched their followers at all sorts of sports. The English nobles are far more fond of gay dress and jewels than our Danish folk, though I must say that when the few Danes of Ethelwald's household came it would seem that they had taken kindly to the fashion of their home.

Our housecarls grumbled a bit for a while, for with all the newcomers dressed span new for the gathering, we had had nothing fresh for it from the king, as was the custom, and I for one was ashamed of myself, for under my mail was naught but the fisher's coat, which is good enough for hard wear, but not for show. But one day we were fitted out fresh by the king's bounty in blue and scarlet jerkins and hose, and we swaggered after that with the best, as one may suppose.

Berthun had the ordering of that business, and he came and sat with Eglaf in the gatehouse and talked of it.

"Pity that you do not put your man Curan into decent gear," the captain said. "That old sailcloth rig does not do either him or you or the court credit."

"That is what I would do," said the steward, "but he will not take aught but the food that he calls his hire. He is a strange man altogether, and I think that he is not what he seems."

"So you have told me many times, and I think with you. He will be some crack-brained Welsh princeling who has been crossed in love, and so has taken some vow on him, as the King Arthur that they prate of taught them to do. Well, if he is such, it is an easy matter to make him clothe himself decently. It is only to tell him that the clothes are from the king, and no man who has been well brought up may refuse such a gift."

"But suppose that he thanks the king for the gift. Both he and the king will be wroth with me."

"Not Curan, when he has once got the things on; and as for Alsi, he will take the thanks to himself, and chuckle to think that the mistake has gained him credit for a good deed that he never did."

"Hush, comrade, hush!" said Berthun quickly; "naught but good of the king!"

"I said naught ill. But if Woden or Frey, or whoever looks after good deeds, scores the mistake to Alsi as well, it will be the first on the count of charity that—"

But at this Berthun rose up in stately wise.

"I may not listen to this. To think that here in the guardroom I should hear such—"

"Sit down, comrade," said Eglaf, laughing, and pulling the steward into his seat again. "Well you know that I would be cut to pieces for the king tomorrow if need were, and so I earn free speech of him I guard. If I may not say what I think of him to a man who knows as much of him as I, who may?"

"I have no doubt that the king would clothe Curan if I asked him," said Berthun stiffly, but noways loth to take his seat again.

"But it is as much as your place is worth to do it. I know what you would say."

Berthun laughed.

"I will do it myself, and if Alsi does get the credit, what matter?"

Wherefore it came to pass that as I was on guard at the gate leading to the town next day I saw a most noble-looking man coming towards me, and I looked a second time, for I thought him one of the noblest of all the thanes who had yet come, and the second look told me that it was Havelok in this new array. I will say that honest Berthun had done his part well; and if the king was supposed to be the giver, he had nothing to complain of. Eglaf had told me of the way in which the dressing of Havelok was to be done.

"Ho!" said I, "I thought you some newcomer."

"I hardly know myself," he answered, "and I am not going to grumble at the change, seeing that this is holiday time. Berthun came to me last evening, and called me aside, and said that it was the king's wont to dress his folk anew at the time of the Witan, and then wanted to know if my vow prevented me from wearing aught but fisher's clothes. And when I said that if new clothes went as wage for service about the place I was glad to hear it, he was pleased, as if it had been likely that I would refuse a good offer. So the tailor went to work on me, and hence this finery. But you are as fine, and this is more than we counted on when we left Grimsby. I suppose it is all in honour of the lady of the North folk, Goldberga."

"Maybe, for I have heard that she is to come."

"To be fetched rather, if one is to believe all that one hears. They say that Alsi has kept her almost as a captive in Dover, having given her into the charge of some friend of his there, that she may be far from her own kingdom and people. Now the Norfolk Witan has made him bring her here. Berthun seems to think there will be trouble."

"Only because Alsi will not want to let the kingdom go from his hand to her. But that will not matter. He is bound by the old promise to her father."

Now we were talking to one another in broad Danish, there being none near to hear us. We had always used it among ourselves at Grimsby, for my father loved his old tongue. But at that moment there rode up to the gate a splendid horseman, young and handsome, and with great gold bracelets on his arms, one or two of which caught my eye at once, for they were of the old Danish patterns, and just such as Jarl Sigurd used to wear. But if I was quick to notice these tokens of the old land, he had been yet quicker, for he reined up before I stayed him, as was my duty if he would pass through this gate to the palace, so that I might know his authority.

"If I am not mistaken," he said in our own tongue, "I heard you two talking in the way I love best. Skoal, therefore, to the first Northman I have met between here and London town, for it is good to hear a friendly voice."

"Skoal to the jarl!" I answered, and I gave the salute of Sigurd's courtmen, which came into my mind on the moment with the familiar greeting of long years ago. And "Skoal," said Havelok.

"Jarl! How know you that I am that?"

"By the jarl's bracelet that you wear, surely."

"So you are a real Dane—not an English-bred one like myself. That is good. You and I will have many a talk together. Odin, how good it is to meet a housecarl who speaks as man to man and does not cringe to me! Who are you?"

"Radbard Grimsson of Grimsby, housecarl just now to this King of Lindsey."

"And your comrade?"

I was about to tell this friendly countryman Havelok's name without thought, but stopped in time. Of all the things I had been brought up to dread most for him, that an English Dane should find him out was the worst, so I said, "He is called Curan, and he is a Lindsey marshman."

"Who can talk Danish though his name is Welsh. That is strange. Well, you are right about me. I am Ragnar of Norwich, the earl, as the English for jarl goes. Now I want to see Alsi the king straightway."