“It is strange indeed,” replied Estein, thoughtfully.  “I have noted before that a powerful mind has a strong influence on men of less wisdom, yet like enough there is something more besides.”

When they had come near enough to be recognized, a loud and joyful shout went up from their men; one after another of the victors ran out to meet them, and it was with quite a company at their back that they entered the burning town.  In the open market-place, round which most of the houses stood, they found Ketill, his armour dinted and smeared with blood, and his eyes gleaming with stern excitement.  At last he had got his burning, and he was enjoying it to the full.  A batch of captives had just been pitilessly decapitated, their gory heads and trunks were strewn on the crimson snow, and beside them lay five or six more, their legs bound by ropes, awaiting their turn.

Inured though he was to spectacles of blood and carnage, Estein’s mind recoiled from such a scene of butchery as this, and he replied to Ketill’s shout of astonishment and welcome,—­

“Right glad I am to see this victory, Ketill, and gallantly you must have fought, but when has it become our custom to slay our prisoners?”

“Ay,” answered Helgi, “we could well have missed this part.”

“Know you not that the Jemtlanders slew the twenty who followed you to King Bue?” answered the black-bearded captain.  “They slew them like cattle, Estein; and shall we spare the murderers now?  I knew not also whether you and Helgi had fallen into their hands, and in case ill had happened to you, it seemed best to take vengeance on the chance.”

“Then since I need no revenge, let the slaying cease,” said Estein, “though in truth the treacherous dogs ill deserve mercy.”

“As you list,” replied Ketill; “yet there is one here who would be better out of the world than in it.”

As he spoke he went up to one prisoner who was lying on his side, with his face pressed down into the snow, like one sorely wounded, and in no gentle fashion turned him over with his foot.

“Can you not let me die?” said the man, looking up coldly and proudly at his captors, though he was evidently at death’s door.  “It will not take long now.”

“Thorar!” exclaimed Estein.

“You have named me, Estein,” replied the wounded lawman.  “I had hoped to witness thy death, now thou canst witness mine.”

“Treacherous foe and faithless friend,” said Estein, sternly, “well have you deserved this death.”

“Faithless to whom?” replied Thorar.  “To my king and master Bue I alone owed allegiance.  Long have I planned how to rid us of your proud and cruel race, and I thought the time had come.  Witless and confident ye walked into my snare, like men blindfolded; and it was the doing of the gods, and not of you, that my plan miscarried.”

“‘Witless and confident?’” answered Estein.  “Say rather trustful of pledges that only a dastard would break.”