“That is she.  Now I will tell you the beginning of that voyage.  I was a courtman then to the father of Thorleif, our jarl here, and I myself made the boat ready and launched her in it.”

And then he told me that which I have set down at the beginning of this tale—­neither more nor less.  What was the fullness of the evil the woman had wrought he did not tell me, and I am glad.

When he ended he sat silent and brooding for a long time.  The ship forged slowly and uneasily over the waves with the heavy trader after her, and on our decks the men were silent, waiting for word from Thorleif of what was to be done.  We could hear him, now and then, laughing with the crew of the other ship as if all went easily.

“Lad,” said old Thrond, suddenly turning to me, “you had best forget all this.  It is dangerous to know aught of the secrets of great folk; and if it comes to the ears of Quendritha that one is telling such a tale of her, the life of the man who has told it will not be worth much.  Maybe I am wrong, and I speak of one who is drowned long since; for, indeed, it seems out of the way of chance that a girl could win across the sea from Denmark to a throne thus.  And if it is true, she has done even as Thorleif’s father bade her, and has left her ways of ill.

“And, yet,” he said again, “if ever you have to do with her, remember what she may have been.  It will be ill to offend her, or to cross her in aught.”

“That is the hardest saying that our folk have of her,” I said, “but I have heard it many a time.”

“There is much in that saying,” Thrond answered grimly.

“Well,” I answered shortly, “I suppose that if any man will set himself against a king or a queen, he has to take the chances.”

“Small chance for such an one if the queen be—­well, such another as I helped to set adrift from our shore.”

Meaningly that was said, and I had no answer.  I was glad that Thorleif showed himself on the bows of the prize and hailed Thrond.

“Send the Saxon lad on board here,” he said; “we have met with a friend of his.”

That could be none but the atheling, and I leaped up.  The men were heaving on the tow line, and the ships were slowly nearing each other.

“Thrond,” I said breathlessly, “will Thorleif let me go?”

“Of course,” he answered, smiling.  “We only picked you up again to save your life.  He had a mind to land you on the English shore presently; for he said you had kept faith with us well, and he could not let you suffer therefor.”

The bows of the trader grated against our stern, and one of the men gave me a hoist over her gunwale with such good will that I landed sprawling among the coils of rope on the fore deck.  When I gathered myself up I saw Ecgbert and Thorleif aft, while the Danes were rummaging the ship, and I made my way to them.  And as I came the atheling stared at me, and then hastened forward with outstretched hand of welcome.